


theoretically

by idontknowhowtoread (heatherpotts)



Category: PBG Hardcore
Genre: Boys In Love, Canonical Character Death, Crying, Excessive Worldbuilding, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Rejection, SPOILERS FOR MC7 FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, Self-Indulgent, This got really out of hand, also references to 4 5 (obv) and 6 so watch out, also!! the ryzab is one sided sorry it wouldnt show up in the tag with the parentheses, and the other half is just me wanting to write my two best boys together, but everything out of the game is v inspired by 17776 if youve read that… shout out, but i went a little insane so this isnt even about him, but its also my first multi-chapter fic thats come anywhere close to completion so thats cool, but not technically real so im not gonna put the archive warning… just a little graphic so watch out, everything makes more sense in context idk how to explain it..., i like how thats a tag, im a clown but no regerts, im just realizing this is really flowery and kind of ooc for dean but you know what., oh god jared warning. im not writing him out of this whole dam thing..., ok so... i can explain, so first this was me trying to explain mcjones’ retirement, so now this is half me going off of the repeat theme with how luke replaces mcjones you know, sometimes being gay makes you poetic idk, this is entirely just crying and kissing not gonna lie. and in that order, venting, way more fluff towards the back half oops, wizard shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:19:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherpotts/pseuds/idontknowhowtoread
Summary: Upon being left alone at the house, Dean has an unexpected visitor.Things escalate from there.





	1. Abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aforementioned visit. Dean realizes some things.

The forest is practically silent, save the occasional breaking of ice near the river as it ran, or snow sliding off of the trees as it grew too heavy for the branches. ****  
** **

And, of course, Dean's own heartbeat, his inability to be completely silent getting to him, although he wasn't sure why. His own footsteps feel deafening, although they were muffled by the snow underfoot. The sense that he was ruining something pristine just by being out here is unshakable. ****  
** **

This had never happened before. He had walked through this forest plenty of times, exploring and just enjoying the scenery, but never alone. ****  
** **

That must be it, he supposes. He's not used to being alone. Not used to being alone with his thoughts, nothing to distract him from everything that's happened. ****  
** **

Everything, _everything._

****

_“Please, don't go. I'm sorry.”_

Memories come to him in flashes, pointed fragments digging into his sides when he least expects it. Still, it's been manageable, for the most part. ****  
** **

_“If I could just... forget what you said, I would, Dean. But I can't.”_ ****  
** **

Now, they rain down upon him, digging deep. Dean pictures his own scarlet blood contrasting against the snow, slowly melting it. Beautiful for a while, but ultimately ruining everything. Ultimately erased. ****  
** **

_“I'm leaving. Don't try to stop me."_

Dean knows he should really go home. If he's going to cry, he should at least do it somewhere safe. Dean wonders if his tears would freeze to his face if he stayed. ****  
** **

_“Mcjones, wait, please, I-”_

****

Dean's hands sting, right where Mcjones had grabbed them to shove him away. He can't tell if it's because of the cold or not. He should really go home, he doesn't have pockets. ****  
** **

_“You're pathetic.”_

****

Dean exhales, watching his breath dissipate in front of him. Good to know, he's still alive. ****  
** **

Sometimes it doesn't feel like it.

****

He heads back to the house, dragging his feet through the snow.

****

This wasn't happening before. He didn't know why Mcjones still had so much power over him. He was over it, right?

****

The dragging of his feet, his breathing, his heartbeat, the rustling of wind, the cracking of ice on the river, all of it combines and fades into white noise in Deans mind. Deafening and eerily silent at the same time.

****

Why did he have to be alone right now?

****

Somebody to talk to would be lovely. They're all off adventuring or whatever, they hadn't even bothered to tell him, but Dean couldn't bring himself to worry about them. They're probably fine. _I just wish they were here._

He wishes Barry was still alive. He was a good listener, even if he didn't always understand. Maybe he could talk to someone when they came home, although waiting wouldn’t be easy. Ray is good with emotions and stuff, and Luke is sweet and cares more than he reasonably should, but Dean isn't sure if he really trusts them. Really, if he trusts himself not to make a fool of himself in front of them. Dean isn't sure if he could even explain without turning into a sobbing, blubbering mess a quarter of the way through.

****

Nobody needs to see that.

But still, somebody to talk to, any distraction would be nice right now.

****

Anybody, _anything._

****

Except maybe for Austin. It's not his fault, but sometimes he looks just like him.

****

_“Hey, don't worry, Dean. I'm sure he'll come back. He's my brother, he wouldn't just leave without saying goodbye.”_

****

Dean still feels bad for just leaving the room after that, refusing to say a single word until the next day. Surely, Austin was struggling too, but there was nothing of value left for either of them to say. It's been months now, and Mcjones never did come back. Dean wonders if Austin really believed that, or if he flat-out lied to him in a weak, ill-fated attempt at getting him to cheer up.

****

At least the latter was one thing Mcjones would never do. Austin certainly isn't turning into his brother, but sometimes when Dean overhears him talking to Jeff, or watching them when they're together, he sees what he and Mcjones could have been. It's not their fault. They must think, _it's been months, surely it wasn't that big of a deal._ They still don't know exactly what happened between him and Mcjones. Nobody does.

****

_“Austin? You okay?”_

****

_“Yeah, I'm just worried. About Dean. I think something must have happened between him and Mcjones, but I don't know what. He won't talk to me.”_

****

_A shifting, the rustling of clothes, a sigh._

****

_“I'm sure he'll open up when he's ready. Heard anything from Mcjones yet?”_

****

_“Nope. I know I shouldn't worry too much, it's none of my business, but I still can't stop wondering.”_

_**** _

_More shifting, a sharp inhale._

****

_“I have an idea... Maybe I can take your mind off it.”_

****

Words were replaced by quiet grunts, gasps for air, the unmistakable sound of lips against lips. Dean couldn't bear continuing to listen after that.

****

Dean enters the house, closing the door behind him, and takes a moment to collect himself.

****

The shift in warmth is subtle, but comforting. The air feels heavier, almost, but it's more numbing than suffocating. Dean slides down the wall, hugging his knees.

He wonders if he's going to die this season. He hadn’t thought about it much before, but getting too distracted could easily be fatal. That theoretical death, assuming it’s his fault, could also indirectly be Mcjones’, all because he couldn’t get over a _stupid crush._

****

It doesn't scare him like it used to. Even when he knew what was waiting for him on the other side, he always dreaded that numbness, that feeling of being submerged in dense, almost saccharine darkness. With nothing you can do but watch through a hazy window as your surviving friends continued on without you.

****

Right now, a little numbness didn't sound so bad. _But not now._ His friends needed him, and he figures he should probably do something productive.

****

Still, the thought lingers.

****

If Mcjones was here, what would he do?

****

Well, the new Mcjones, the one that hated him, would either actively ignore him or try to kill him. Maybe a bit of both, but… _Just ignore that part. Just say he didn't._

Mcjones would probably like it here. He always preferred the cold, and he always appreciated the peacefulness. He'd probably tell Dean to stop crying, to do something productive for once.

****

Another flash, not of a memory, but of what Mcjones would want to do. Broken ice around them, his hand in Dean's hair, holding his head underwater.

****

Dean shivers, knowing he shouldn't be thinking about this right now.

****

Still, he can almost feel the stinging cold, becoming aware again of the old bruises where Mcjones hit him. The tightness in his chest as static crowds the edges of his consciousness.

****

He's never drowned before. He's had plenty of close calls, but it has yet to kill him, and that’s somewhat of a pride point of his. Still, even just imagining it, it scares Dean more than it should. Mcjones would know that.

****

Dean has a feeling he's projecting, truly, he knows. He knows that his view of Mcjones is severely distorted by his own emotions, but trying to stop thinking about it has proved itself ineffective after all this time.

****

Maybe it's Mcjones he's scared of now.

****

Dean reluctantly stands up, checking their chests for something productive to do, wracking his brain for anything else to think about.

****

Luke almost drowned once, Dean remembers watching him from the other side, how terrifyingly close he came to death before being dragged back from the edge. Maybe he could talk to Luke about this, but chances are it would just devolve into crying about Mcjones more.

****

Why does it always come back to _him?_

****

Doesn't matter. He wonders where Luke is now. Deeper into the forest? Maybe following the river, just to see where it goes, or across the sea on a faraway island. He hopes he's okay. He hopes they're all still alive, having fun on their little adventure, and that they'll be back soon. Because he hates having nothing to do, he hates being helpless, and _G_ _od, he hates being alone._

Jeff would know about that. Maybe he should talk to him when they get back.

Or to anyone, really.

****

Dean pauses for a moment, trying to get himself together, and can faintly hear the sound of some kind of _shuffling_ outside.

****

Probably just the wind, maybe a sheep or something, but it's something to do.

****

Dean steps back outside, looking for the source of the noise. The scene seems undisturbed, other than the trail he left, and Dean fears he might be hallucinating. The noise seems to have stopped, and Dean was about to head back inside before finding the source, standing right in front of him.

****

Strange, black robes flowing around him, the snow falling onto it looking like stars in the night sky. A mess of golden hair, tousled by the wind. Much too far away to really analyze his face, but his posture suggests he's nervous. Maybe even scared.

****

_…_

****

_No._

****

_You can't be here._

_No, no, no, no, no, wait-_

****

"Dean..." He says, approaching him reluctantly, like a wounded animal, unsure of who to trust. Dean wants to run away, but is frozen in place.

"I... I was scared I wasn't going to be able to find you."

****

He comes closer, already _way_ too close, and Dean takes a step back, holding his hands out in front of him.

****

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean asks, unable to keep his voice from shaking. “It's been months…”

Now, Dean can see his face clearly, but he still can't tell if it's the cold making his face flush, or if he's actually been crying.

****

The latter doesn't sound like Mcjones at all, but none of this does. None of this feels right.

“I know…” He sighs, looking away for a moment. “Where's everyone else?”

_Oh, just changing the subject, huh?_

“Adventuring. They left me to protect the house.” Dean surprises himself with the sharpness of his words, the growing fire in his stomach, how reckless he was being with his own emotions. “Does it matter?”

Mcjones smirks slightly, as infuriating as ever.

“They left you in charge? Things really are going downhill around here.”

More flashes. Broken ice, rushing rivers, scarlet blood against stark white snow.

“Just… what do you want?”

His face softens, almost looking remorseful. Dean doesn't believe it for a second.

“I… I shouldn't have left like I did. I thought I should at least say goodbye, explain what happened if you haven't already. I didn't think it was going to be just _you,"_ Mcjones finishes with a bit of a grimace, as if he's holding back. As if apologizing is a painful thing to do. Dean wants to scream at him.

“...I don't think that will be necessary,” Dean breathes deeply, desperately trying to calm himself, subconsciously clenching his fists. “Maybe you should go, at least until the others get back.”

Mcjones rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

“What, you're not happy to see me?”

Dean flinches, feeling his throat closing up as more memories return to him.

“No, no, I'm really not,” Dean stammers, blinking back tears.

Mcjones looks at him with what might have been pity, but changed so quick that he couldn't really tell.

“The feeling is mutual. I take it you're still not over it?” Mcjones sighs, and Dean wishes somebody, anybody else was here, just to hold him back from doing something he’d regret right now.

_He really thought I’d just… get over it? Like what he did doesn’t matter? Does he even understand what he did, or is he just pretending it didn’t happen?_

“Wh- I was handling it, but you showing up here isn't exactly helping. You need to _leave,"_ Dean almost yells, feeling like he might throw up. Mcjones grits his teeth.

“It's- ugh. It doesn't matter. I'm not here for you,” He growls, a fire in his eyes that Dean worried might be hiding darker intentions. _Broken ice, rushing rivers-_

“And even if I was, it's not like it'd be worth much.”

A flash of remorse, back to coldness just as quickly.

_Is there…?_

_No._

_Wait…_

“...What?” Dean asks, frozen in place as Mcjones approached, now scared for a very different reason.

“If I was here for you, _which I'm not,_ if… If there was a way for me to apologize-”

“You're fucking joking," Dean interrupts, fire and ice coursing through his veins. This couldn't be real, _there's no fucking way._

“I'm not.” Mcjones reaches for Dean's hands, which makes him shiver. _This was wrong, this couldn't be real._ The last time Mcjones touched him like this was to shove him away, but now he's rubbing the back of Dean's hand with his thumb, not daring to look him in the eyes, and _oh god, oh god, oh god-_

“If, theoretically, there was a way to tell you how I really, theoretically felt, and theoretically apologize…”

“You're not real. This isn't happening,” Dean mumbles, not entirely meaning to say that out loud, to which Mcjones laughed.

“Good to know you're still just as stupid as you were when I left.” Mcjones smiles, an unidentifiable look in his eyes, but one that almost seems _kind._

“Dean, please. I'm- I'm really here, you can feel this-” Mcjones squeezes Dean's hands, which felt much warmer by now. Still, Dean couldn't believe it.

“I'm real, I'm here, please, stop being such a massive idiot and let me talk to you for one second-” Mcjones cuts himself off with a gasp, as if he's holding back tears. Dean's head is spinning, knowing this has to be too good to be true, that Mcjones doesn't show emotion like this, that he could never feel the same way.

“What I was saying was… If I could find the words to tell you how I really felt… Could you even forgive me?” Mcjones bites his lip, bracing himself for Dean's response.

“You're not real. Mcjones wouldn't even have to ask that question,” Dean chokes out as he struggles to breathe, eyes watering and spilling over. Dean pulls him closer, knowing he's holding on to a lie, but he _desperately_ needs the contact. "Of course I would.”

“Mcjones” sighs, hugging Dean tightly and rubbing his back as Dean caught his breath. When he felt that Dean had sufficiently calmed down, he pulled away, revealing that his eyes were now glowing amber.

“Do you see the problem now? You need to let go.”

That voice did not match his body, suddenly deep and distorted. Dean laughs in spite of it all, rubbing at his eyes.

“I guess. I don't really see how doing…” Dean gestures vaguely at the wizard. “All _that_ is really helping me though.”

“I thought I should check on you,” Todd explains, casually levitating, the black robes wrapping around him and transforming back into the form Dean knew and hated. “And it's not like you would have told me any other way.”

“I guess…” Dean isn't nearly as angry as he thought he should be. It's kind of funny, the more he thinks about it. _God, I really am a mess._

“Shouldn't you be checking on the others though? Aren't they the ones doing interesting things? And are possibly in imminent danger?”

“Well, one, do you really think it's beyond me to be in two places at once?” Todd smirks, floating back down to the ground, his grin blindingly obvious even through his dark attire. Dean shrugs.

“And two, what makes you think they're still alive?”

“Oh my god, stop.”

“Kidding, ha ha funny,” Todd deadpans. “They're fine, but they're still a long ways from home. Think you'll be okay on your own until then?”

“I… Yeah. I think I'll be fine.” Dean took a moment to find his answer, but for the first time in months, he meant it. Todd smiles, approaching once more and wrapping his arms around Dean's neck. Dean hugs him back, glad that he didn't even have to ask.

“Good. Try to actually talk to someone when they get back. Can't have your- uh… performance… hindered…”

Dean chuckles into Todd's shoulder.

“I will. I was thinking I'd start with Luke, and go from there…”

“Mhmm. Guess you're way ahead of me.” Todd pulls away, and Dean didn't have time to wipe the stupid smile off his face, but at this point, he didn't really care.

“I should be going now. Take care of yourself.”

Todd levitates once more, black robes flowing around him, then curling into a ball, and vanishing. Dean smiles, knowing he should head back inside, but was somehow feeling warmer than ever right now. _How mysterious._

“I will,” Dean whispers, to no one in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when I first wrote this I wasn't sure if I was gonna do a follow up or what. but clearly my writing monky clown hybrid brain is so much smarter than my regular brain so here we are. now its dean x luke


	2. Optimism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean does what he promised Todd he would do.

Was it naive to be optimistic?

Things had definitely been better ever since everyone else came back from their adventure, since Todd’s visit. Both because of the stuff they brought back, and how mentally, Dean was feeling better than ever. Maybe he was on a bit of a magic wizard love high, but whatever. Things were actually looking up, preparing as much as possible for the upcoming visit to the Nether, in spite of the fact they had already lost two people.

Things were better, but Dean still had a lot to work on. As time passed after Todd’s visit, that magic feeling wore off, and Dean often found himself wandering off, losing himself in the noise around him. The clucking of chickens, fading into the distance, the freezing but relatively gentle wind, the crunching of snow under his feet, the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears-

A hand falls on Dean's shoulder, and he almost screams.

"Whoa- Dean. You okay? I saw you wander off..."

"Oh- Jesus, you scared me," Dean yelps, laughing through his words both out of nervousness and the sheer luck of Luke following him out here today.

It's what he promised Todd he would do. He just wasn't planning on it being so soon.

"Pfft- Sorry." Luke smiles, dropping his hand from Dean's shoulder and shoving it into his pocket. "Didn't mean to scare you. Just, uh... Jeff's trying to keep tabs on everyone, you know, so it would probably be good to head back..."

Dean smiles back, fidgeting with the hilt of his sword. "Oh, yeah! Just, uh..."

Luke turns to head back, and Dean barely recognizes his own voice, the words flying out as if he had no control over them.

"Wait- Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Luke spins on his heel, facing Dean once more, and looking oddly happy.

"Oh, sure. What's up?"

Dean's gut twists, and he leans onto his sword for support as bile rises in his throat. _This is stupid I'm not prepared Luke doesn't deserve this-_

Dean forces a smile, a small chuckle.

"It's kinda personal. And long. So, we don't really have to do this here or now if you're not ready-"

"No, it's fine. I'm ready. Whenever you are," Luke interrupts, strangely frantic. He smiles at him, but it’s not quite the usual one. The way his mouth curved ever so slightly differently at the corners, the unexpected look of _understanding_ in his eyes, all reeked of genuine concern and it made Dean want to _fucking cry_. Luke never asked if they should head back home, have this talk where it's safer, or even if he's told anyone else yet. Luke simply sat down with him, pulled the sword out of Dean's hands, set it down next to him, and waited.

Luke left his hands in Dean's, and he couldn't tell if that was intentional or by accident. He was grateful for it, though, squeezing lightly and was overjoyed when Luke didn't pull away at the touch.

"It's- Um. Okay. It's about Mcjones."

Luke squeezes Dean's hands back, an exchange, a comfort. Dean takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself and not necessarily succeeding.

"It's... It's my fault he left." Dean swallows down the guilt rising in his throat, blinks back the tears stinging at his eyes, and tries to look at anything other than Luke. _He's just staring at me stop it say something-_

"I... Explain?" Luke stammers, sounding more unsure of himself than anything else. Dean doesn't necessarily want to, but he supposes he should.

"It's... Ugh, fuck." Dean wants to run away, apologize to Luke, stop himself before he gets too carried away, but he doubts Luke would even let him. "I guess... I don't really know when it started. But you know how we were, right?"

The smile dropped off of Luke's face. "What do you mean? That you guys were close?"

A small, pitiful smile tugs at Dean's lips and Mcjones' words are echoing in his mind again. _He really is pathetic._

"Yeah, basically." Dean clenches his teeth, fends off the sadness the memory is bringing him as best as he can. "But it was joking, mostly, you know how it is with these shows, and... I guess I actually caught feelings somewhere along the way."

Luke looks at him like a kicked puppy, like he blames himself, like he _understands_ , and Dean desperately wants to backtrack but has no idea what to say. Despite this, another side of him is yearning to continue, to finally let it all out, and that option certainly seems easier.

"God, I don't even know when I figured it out. I think I always knew, in a way. But, y'know, clearly Mcjones didn't."

Dean feels like a _fucking idiot,_ and staring at Luke isn't helping.

"I... I'm sorry. I know what that feels like."

_please stop feeling sorry for me I don't deserve it_

"What... You don't have to repeat it if you don't think you're ready, but when did this, uh... happen?"

Dean almost feels angry, in a petty, pathetic way. Because _this is all his fault, he doesn't deserve his sympathy. Luke didn't deserve to be dragged into this. God, Dean, you are so fucking stupid-_

Still, it wouldn't be right to stop now. He's come this far, might as well give Luke the answers he's looking for. Dean takes a deep breath, and swallows down the feeling once more.

"It's- Um, it's fine. This was- Oh my god, how long ago was it? I think you were still on the Starbound season. So, what, six, seven months?"

Luke's eyes widened, that kicked-puppy look he was giving Dean only getting sadder.

"Wh- Dean... Have you told anyone else yet?"

There's the sacred question, the one that makes all the guilt rush back into his mind. Dean can barely keep his voice from shaking as he replies.

"No. Not yet."

Luke doesn't yell at him, doesn't lash out. Instead, he scoots closer to Dean, at a very particular angle to give them both their space, and wraps his arms around him. Somehow, that's even worse. Luke is warm, his hold a bit lighter than usual, but comforting all the same. The red, wooly fabric on Luke's back feels like a luxury to touch. Dean pulls him closer, a bit of a risk considering just how familiar this is, just how close he might be to losing another friend, but Luke shows no signs of backing down. Buried in Luke's shoulder, Dean can't see his stupid, puppy-dog eyes, but the feeling of wrongness is still overwhelmingly present.

_Maybe he's too good for me._

"Dean..." Luke's voice is low, husky, a little unsteady. "We're here for you, all of us. Please don't keep these kind of things to yourself. We- I... You're my friend. No matter what happened between you two, unless you, like, murdered him, that's not gonna change. I care about you, okay?"

Dean feels like his brain was short-circuiting, too frazzled to even self-deprecate. He feels detached from his own body, like he's shutting down, that Luke is the only thing keeping him conscious. He can't breathe, can't think, and could only sniffle in response. Dean tries to pull away before he starts sobbing into Luke's shoulder, but Luke holds them together, murmuring sweet comforts into his ear.

With Luke's permission, all of those feelings Dean had pushed down came bubbling back up, and Dean didn't even try to stop himself from sobbing.

"Mmhm, just like that. You're okay. Shh..."

Minutes passed, Dean had no idea how long, but he felt completely drained by the time he stopped crying.

_What about Luke, after all this time, what did it get him? A wet patch on his coat and some perfect blackmail material. God, Dean, you really are fucking pathetic._

...

That didn't sound quite right.

Even as Dean sat there, trying to catch his breath, Luke never once faltered in comforting him.

_He said I was his friend. That he cared about me. Would he lie about that?_

...

_I don't deserve him._

"You okay?" Luke asks softly, not wanting to be the one to initiate their separation. Dean reluctantly pulls away, wiping away the remnants of his tears.

"Yeah. Thank you."

The kicked-puppy look in Luke's eyes is gone now, replaced with... _What is that, pride? Happiness?_

"So... I'll make sure Todd edits this out-"

"God, yeah. He better," Dean laughs, and _G_ _od, the way Luke smiles, the way his eyes light up..._

"So, um... I get if you don't wanna talk about it here, but maybe after the season we can... work it out?" Luke seems unsure, a bit nervous, still obviously concerned, but Dean has no idea why. _Is it even physically possible for him to do anything wrong?_

"Oh, yeah! That sounds great. I... Thank you, so much. Seriously."

The corner of Luke's mouth twitches, _out of what, irritation? Anger? Shit, did I do something wrong...?_

"Dude, no problem. You deserve better."

...

_Oh god, he really meant that._

"You let me know if you need anything before then, okay?"

Dean stutters out a quick yes, another couple thank you's, and follows Luke back to the house. Still, Dean struggles to fully snap out of his trance, because _how the hell is this real? Luke cares about him, he meant it, he wants to help him..._

He thinks back to all the things left unsaid, how he hadn't even gotten to exactly what happened between him and Mcjones, and how Luke still understood.

How he really needs to take a nap, but how he was going to be okay. How he's going to do this. All of them, together.

_They're going to win._

That's what he thought, anyway.


	3. Rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd visits once more.

Dean wasn't necessarily alone. It was a brief moment of solitude, he could still hear the voices of his friends from the other room, but it would seem that was all Todd needed.

The room seems to get colder, quieter, and Dean knows he's there. He can feel the wind against his back, even though they're inside, and he can hear the quiet flapping of fabric, along with what sounded like high pitched chimes.

"Hey." Dean didn't bother turning away from the crafting table. He knows Todd heard him.

"Hey," Todd replies, a surprising amount of apprehension in his voice. "Thought I should check on you again."

Dean turns around to face him, resting his elbows on the crafting table.

"It's been, like, three days."

Todd glares at him, a look that used to be intimidating, but was now practically petulant.

"A lot has happened since then."

Todd hesitates again, and Dean wonders why. He supposes this kind of thing isn't in his usual line of work, but Dean never expected the almighty wizard himself to be insecure. Dean isn't particularly fond of him, but he does feel a bit _guilty, like he's being a burden, like he should just get over it-_

"I wasn't expecting you to talk to Luke so soon, but... I'm glad you're on top of it. The sooner, the better."

_Luke_. The name brings a smile to Dean's face, despite the context.

"You're gonna edit that part out, right?"

"Of course," Todd replies, looking a bit miffed. "You know the deal."

"Yeah, no personal issues from out of game," Dean recites, thinking back to the contract he signed when Todd took over the game. He's pretty sure he was the only one who read it.

"Mmhm. Not much crying in general, you know."

"I know. Just making sure." Dean is just waiting for him to leave at this point, but it feels like they're both standing there, waiting, for hours. The silence is deafening, and it gives more than enough time to start _really thinking about things._

_Like..._

"...How did you know about Mcjones? Like... What happened between us?"

Todd grins at him, which makes him angrier than it really should. Todd gestures vaguely towards himself, chuckling quietly.

"Wizard, Dean." 

Dean continues glaring at him, and it was obvious that something had just clicked in Todd's head as he spoke again, suddenly remorseful.

"I- I didn't. I assumed, based on how you were acting and how Mcjones just left... I didn't see what happened specifically, if that's what you're asking."

Dean doesn't really believe him. _Almighty wizard and all that,_ it's not like it would be beyond his abilities. It wouldn’t be the first time Todd broke his own rules.

"It certainly seemed like you knew," Dean says softly, his stomach churning.

Todd looks _scared._ Dean knows he's probably scared for _him, not himself,_ but the shift in power fills him with a strange sense of joy. It's easy enough to pretend Todd is actually scared of him, and even the notion makes him want to be reckless.

"Dean, I- I was doing Starbound, you know I-"

"I thought it wasn't beyond you to be in two places at once."

"Dean, please."

The plea sends a shiver of excitement through Dean, but the high is almost immediately shattered by a crushing sense of guilt and regret. _What the actual fuck is wrong with me?_

“I- I didn't know. I still don't. I don't read minds, and I don't spy on anyone out of game. I... I'm sorry if I scared you, if I made you think I... Genuinely, I have no idea what really happened."

The concept that Todd _actually doesn't know_ makes him oddly happy, fills him with a sense of agency over his own feelings, even if it feels too good to be true. There's a voice in Dean's head screaming _liar,_ but Dean can't think of a time Todd said anything more sincere. Maybe that part of him _wants_ Todd to be lying, but that's something he isn't ready to think about right now.

Dean isn't ready to cry in front of him again. Even if that number is one less than he had previously thought, Dean doesn't have time to break down again _._ He was supposed to be keeping it off his mind so he could finish the season, then he could fully talk it out with Luke. _So, why was Todd still here?_

Dean shakes his head, trying to get rid of the thought, and pushes down the feeling.

"...I'm sorry. I'm just trying to keep it off my mind, until I can talk it out and… actually be okay."

Todd smiles, and Dean wants to _knock his fucking teeth in,_ but forces himself to swallow down the impulse. _Not like it'd do much. Maybe he'd kill me, if I was lucky._

"It's fine. It's just good for me to know. I know I'm not the most... sympathetic person, but I just need to make sure you have a plan to get better. Don't wanna lose another player, you know?"

_Of course. That's all we are to him. Players._

Dean forces a smile, acts like he understands, but doesn't say anything.

“Why did… If you don't mind me asking, I know that's what you said you were going to do, but why did you choose Luke?”

Dean barely registers the question, the mention of Luke remarkably distracting. It fills him with warmth, a certain calmness he didn't even think to question, and Dean takes a moment to snap out of his trance.

“Wh- Why wouldn't I?”

Todd shrugs, an inexplicable smugness coming with it. Dean didn't really know why he was angry again, but Todd didn't seem fazed.

“I mean… I thought you would go to Ray, since he's the resident romantic, and all that. And, arguably, a little less stupid.”

…

Todd isn't necessarily wrong, and Dean isn't trying to refute the fact that Luke is an idiot, but something about the way Todd said it made Dean want to _rip his fucking throat out._

Still, thinking of Luke has an oddly calming effect on him. So, _maybe not murder,_ but Dean still feels the need to defend him and his decisions.

_Why is that, actually…?_

“Wh- Luke's not an idiot! Well, maybe in the game, but… I don't know, I just feel like he understands me. Like I don't have to hold back around him, and he's not gonna get on me for being too emotional, or whatever. I don't know.”

“I think you know.”

“Shut up,” Dean hisses through his teeth, but the flame of anger dies down just as quickly as any other outburst from today. He takes a deep breath, and doesn't question why thinking about Luke makes him feel like this. Clearly, he needs it.

“It's just… I know he knew Mcjones too, but he still feels so different. Like... I can start over when I talk to him. Nothing else he already knew about Mcjones applies. He just… listens to me, and doesn't… He doesn't blame me.”

Dean feels himself starting to tear up, but forces it back, digging his nails into his palm as a way of controlling himself. _We've been over this, not here. Not now. Not in front of him._

Maybe Todd was right, he should have gone with Ray, because clearly, _Luke was too good for him._

Another part of him, however, refuses to accept anything Todd says as truth.

Todd smiles, that same, shit-eating grin.

“Interesting. You seem very eager to trust him. Because he's understanding, sweet, and takes what you're saying at face value, am I correct?”

Dean is still focused on keeping down tears, so he barely processes what Todd said.

“Uh... Yes?”

“Are you sure those are the only reasons?”

…

_What?_

Dean shakes his head, blinks quickly, and has no idea how he’s supposed to feel.

“Dude, I'm way too out of it. If you're trying to imply something, I'm gonna need you to just say it.”

Todd laughs, and Dean would have wanted to do something reckless, if not for his dedication to keeping his composure in front of Todd.

“Oh, it's nothing,” Todd says, his tone strangely teasing. Dean can't bring himself to really feel angry or offended, only confused. “If that's all you have to say, I suppose I should be going. Time's a bit frozen right now, in case you didn't notice, so you didn't miss anything.”

“Um… Okay. Bye,” Dean states flatly. Todd either doesn't notice, or doesn't care about his lack of enthusiasm.

Todd's vanishing is less theatrical than their time in the forest. Todd simply blips out of existence, and Dean nearly loses his balance as the room violently snaps back to reality. The warmth and the sound of voices return, a bit overwhelming and jarring at first. As he adjusts, however, he smiles.

Dean sighs, trying to focus, simply listening to the room next to him. Austin is still fawning over the chickens, rather loudly, while it seems Jeff is trying to get him to do something productive, and failing. Someone is laughing, it's either Ray or Luke, but it's a bit hard to tell. The softness of the sound makes Dean think it must be Luke, but there's only one way to find out.

Dean takes a deep breath, pushes the encounter to the back of his mind, and focuses once more on their task.

He rejoins the group, and he was right, it was Luke laughing.

Luke tries and fails to regain his composure, and his smile makes Dean's heart melt. He doesn't question why. He doesn’t think about his second conversation with Todd much, and keeps the question of what Todd was trying to imply off of his mind.

Still, the raw sincerity of Todd’s words, even through the more teasing parts, was hard to ignore. Dean knows he isn’t ready to think about it, but the idea that Todd was actually trying to say something important, not lying for once, is unsettling. Scary, even. It felt as if he knew something Dean didn’t, even though it was about his own feelings, which Todd had no right to. Like there was something Dean was willfully missing, and Todd was right to try to point out.

Easily, Todd was at his worst when he was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> such good boys... it would be a shame if something happened to them


	4. Smothered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean supposes he was right, it was a little naïve to be so hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey this chapter gets a little more graphic with deans death, you can probably skip it? id say once it comes back to luke its fine but theres also some afterlife shenanigans and that shit hurted so idk what to tell you really. watch out!! also I got super inspired by thechocolatearmor's and samookely's art of deans death on the subreddit so. shout out
> 
> also also sorry for being a bitch and a liar when I said I would go easy on them because I did not do that. yay for me getting done with this way quicker than I thought though!! I was gonna include lukes death in this chapter and some subsequent foolery but this is already like 3000 words so im just gonna split it up. thank yall for reading!!

Death is always a bit strange in these types of games.

It isn't quite unconsciousness, more like... detachment.

****

It comes with a sense of numbness, acceptance, becoming a merely a spectator, despite the lack of a physical self. It isn't exactly comfortable, but once you figure out what's going on, it stops hurting.

****

Mostly.

****

Death in these types of games requires complete acceptance, a nearly absolute lack of conscious thought in order to spectate completely painlessly.

****

Dean was never good at that, and knows he probably never will be.

  
  
Often times, death comes too quickly and suddenly to truly understand what's going on. That's how it's always been for Dean, and the state of non existence allows the fear and confusion to eventually slip out of his mind and disappear. With the absence of all other emotion comes acceptance, and with acceptance, comes spectating.

  
  
As soon as you're aware of and okay with the fact that you don't really exist anymore, the window opens up, usually staring at your own dead body. You can't always move at first, it takes a good amount of adjusting to being dead for that. Sometimes all you need is a moment of staring, sometimes it's when your friends find you or carry you home, and sometimes it isn't until you're buried.

  
  
Dean's gotten better at accepting it after all this time, but that doesn't make dying any easier.

  
  
The act of dying itself is strange too, the pain coming with it always feeling somewhat uniform, fake, manufactured. It isn't real, of course, but that doesn't mean he doesn't fear it. Pain feels relatively the same with every possibly fatal situation, whether it be falling, being shot, or starving. It's always a jolt, an electric shock that leaves the center of attention stinging like needles, almost throbbing. It always leaves him gasping, the need to escape or heal hijacking his brain, taking the priority over his oxygen.

  
  
Although, this time, that might have had more to do with the force lifting him off the ground, nearly crushing his throat.

It had all happened so fast, Dean barely understood what was happening. That was the thing with Endermen, they were fast, terrifying, unstoppable, and there wasn't much Dean could really do in the position he had gotten himself into. He had aggroed the Enderman completely by accident, and he was out in the open, unable to block efficiently, with nowhere near enough time to be saved.

  
  
He vaguely remembers yelling out something about how he was going to die, but it all happened so fast that he couldn't truly comprehend it. His entire body felt like it was on fire, magic pooling into his cuts and digging into his skin. His knees threatened to buckle, it was already so hard to breathe, and Dean swore he saw the Enderman smile at him.

Just as quickly, he was lifted off of the ground by his neck, only allowing for a couple strangled swears before the sound and sensation of something _breaking_ threw him into darkness.

  
  
Dying never gets easier, and Dean knows he's never going to get used to it. Still, this time hurt more than it should, impossible pain wracking his mind, like it was tearing his non-existent body limb from limb. Dean knew he was dead, that it was over, but the pain remained. It did fade eventually, but only to a dull pounding, surrounding him, as if he was being smothered.

  
  
It's always hard to think clearly in death, but Dean has a feeling it has more to do with how he actually had hope for the season, despite all that's happened.

  
  
And just like that, it was all taken away, with one mistake and a deafening _crack_.

  
  
As reality set in, he could just barely hear the voices of his friends over the incessant pounding, frantic, yet so insignificant. Austin was screaming, and Dean couldn't quite hear what Ray was saying, but it was probably trying to comfort him.

  
  
Slowly, the window opens, still dim and hazy, but Dean knew what he was looking at.

  
  
His own body, strangely contorted, his neck at a particularly unnatural angle. He looks sickly, his face almost blue, and he hadn't even noticed before that he was bleeding from his forehead. His mouth is still gaping, last words he didn't quite have the air to pronounce weighing mockingly on his tongue. His eyes are still open, albeit glazed over, a dark haziness slowly clouding them.

  
  
Staring at himself, everything seems to go quiet. The pounding, the voices, _everything_ stops.

  
  
Moments like these make him question if all this is really worth it. Sure, it's a big universe with a whole lot of nothing, and you have to take what entertainment, what feeling, what true _living_ you can get. This is the only place Dean has ever truly felt alive, but moments like these make him question if it's really worth the price.

  
  
Nothing's keeping him here. He could leave, if he really wanted to, right now. Come back to his body, his _real_ body, the one that can barely feel, and just head out. Back across the stars, in search of anything other than nothingness, numbness, _anything_ to take his mind off of the memories. It took him forever to find this place, the only place where he’s been able to _feel_ completely and _live_ and _die_ like humans are meant to, only with a purpose, and able to do it again and again. How long would it take him to find something else?

  
  
Still, it's perfectly feasible.

After all, that's what Mcjones did.

  
  
Electricity floods his mind, and for a moment, Dean imagines himself as being real, and his body feels like it's tearing itself apart. The window shuts, and he's left alone, in darkness, with nothing but the pain and the memory.

  
  
…

****

…

****

…

  
  
But, like all things, it fades.

  
  
This state of non existence is funny in that way, too much conscious thought is painful, but the pain doesn't necessarily kill it. It simply can't survive here, not for long. Dean supposes that makes sense, since he's dead and all. Everything slips away eventually. The memory of Mcjones, of his own death, of his false reconstruction of his body and the pain it brought him all fade into insignificance. Merely something to remember later.

  
  
For now, he is just a spectator. Not himself.

****

Slowly, with the disappearance of his thoughts and the pain, the window opens back up.

****

They're home, now. The chatter takes a moment to come into focus, but they're talking about _him._ Austin is babbling, barely coherent, presumably trying to retell what happened to them, to _him_. Ray is sitting in silence as Jeff and Luke try to make sense of it, having made little progress. Jeff simply looks confused, maybe a bit angry, although it was unclear because of what, exactly.

Luke, however, is a little more complicated. He attracts Dean's attention like a magnet, and his focus stays there without any thought at all. Luke's face doesn't tell all that much, other than clear disbelief. His eyes are wide, watery, _blindingly_ blue, and Dean wonders if they were always that _pretty._

Another jolt of pain, but it doesn't last. It doesn't take long for Dean to forget the notion altogether.

  
  
Still, his focus remains on Luke, as he tries to process Austin's explanation, as he claims that it couldn't _possibly_ be true, and grips his sword so hard it must have been painful. He seems to be frequently reminding himself to breathe, deep and slow in an attempt to calm himself down. But, as soon as it slips his mind, his breathing returns to being shallow, frantic, like Luke might suffocate. Dean has no idea how he hadn't noticed before, but Luke is shaking _badly,_ and can't stop himself no matter how hard he grips his sword, no matter how much he struggles to keep his voice even.

****

And yet, somehow Luke still manages to bite his tongue, holds back tears, remembers to breathe, and was quick to find a corner alone as soon as the conversation was over.

  
  
Dean has no idea how, or _if_ he could have managed all that. If his own death wasn't so stupid and preventable, he would have cited that as why Luke outlived him.

  
  
It's an unconscious thing at this point, following Luke. Dean doesn't question it, doesn't risk hurting himself again by thinking too hard. It simply feels right, normal.

Luke seems to always have that effect on him.

  
  
Following Luke leads him outside of the house, directly across from where Dean spoke with Todd, what now felt like hundreds of years ago. The spot that was now furthest away from anybody else, where Luke steadies himself against the wall and his sword clatters to the ground. The calloused hand that used to be gripping his sword clamps over his mouth just as tightly, and Dean wants nothing more than to be there, to be _real_ , to comfort him.

  
  
Even the notion fills his mind with fire, and Dean knows he can't, no matter how much he wants to. No matter how unfair it is to be trapped, simply watching, when he should be comforting him the same way Luke did for him, Dean knows he can't. And so, he forces himself to put it out of his mind, and doesn't pretend to be real. The window flickers slightly, but remains open. Dean simply watches as silent, strangely beautiful tears drip from Luke's eyes.

  
  
Asking himself why he finds it beautiful is out of the question, he doubts he'd even remember once he was back in his body. Maybe he would, but it isn't worth tearing himself apart again. The effect Luke has on him is simply a fact of life now.

****

In the moment, Luke is frozen, a statue, an idol of tragedy and beauty. Dean doesn't stop himself from thinking of Luke this way, and doubts that he could if he tried. He can see Luke's chest heaving, but the hand clamped over his mouth refuses to budge, refuses to let himself breathe.

A part of him is glad Luke wasn't there to watch him die. If merely this, the knowledge that Dean was gone was enough to make Luke cry, Dean doesn't even want to contemplate what would have happened if he had seen it for himself.

****

Come to think of it, he isn't sure what happened to his body. _Did they bring it back?_ A hasty burial on the battlefield seems more reasonable, but Ray was known at this point for being sentimental, so it wouldn't be that much of a surprise if they brought him home. There probably isn't much left for Luke to see, but Dean hopes he never has to.

  
  
Dean isn't sure why he's feeling this way. The ache the contemplation brings him is agonizing, but pales in comparison to the sight of Luke crying over him, with nothing he can do but watch. He doesn't know why he cares so much. He doesn't know why _Luke_ cares so much.

  
  
This isn't normal. _Why does it feel so normal?_

  
  
Despite his distinct lack of eyes, or any body, really, Dean still wants to cry. It hurts too much to contemplate for long, so he barely entertains the notion, and drags his attention back to Luke.

Luke, nearly suffocating himself for the sake of silence. Silent, beautiful tears dripping from his eyes, the perfect idol of beauty and tragedy, the living depiction of the cruelty of this world, of _art and love and perfection and…_

****

_And…_

****

He loves him.

****

…

****

_Oh god, I love him._

  
  
For a moment, Dean imagines himself as real, and an explosion of painful electricity throws him back into darkness, desperately trying to shake Luke from his mind.

  
  
It works.

****

Maybe Dean still knows somewhere in the back of his mind that he loves Luke, but saying it is much too painful. It's _way_ too soon for this, to be catching feelings again. Dean doesn't just let the revelation slip away, but practically throws it into the void. The entire scene fades from his mind, to the point where Dean can barely remember what happened. He doesn't want to. _It's better this way, for both of us._

****

Luke fades from his mind entirely, leaving him in glorious nothingness, and the window opens back up.

  
  
Dean must have missed the part where Luke got himself together, as he was back with the group and acting _mostly_ normal. His hands are still shaking, but he's talking, laughing, smiling, _pretending_ to be okay. The main thing giving him away is how his eyes are redder than usual, half lidded and tired, but nobody seems to notice. Maybe they didn't care. Maybe; _no_ _, not a maybe_ , everyone else has to be struggling too. Luke is fine, _mostly,_ and by now, this level of subtle suffering is every man for himself.

Mostly.

****

Jeff walks past, in the process of reorganizing their stuff, and offers him a small smile. Luke smiles back, and Dean's theoretical heart _aches._

****

Not only because Luke's smile carries so much weight, and seeing it broken and sad makes him want to scream, but also that Dean would give anything to be in Jeff's place right now. Not to switch places with him, he isn't worthy of taking anyone's place in life, but simply to be alone with Luke again, as soon as possible. The name of the feeling pops into his mind out of nowhere, and Dean feels like he's drowning, crushed under thousands of tons of pure emotion and throbbing pain.

****

_Jealousy_. It should be _him_ comforting Luke, making him feel better when he needs it most. He would give _anything_ to be real, to be back, to touch him and tell him it was going to be okay. To hug him, to breathe him in, to stop feeling like this and to be able to make up for his complicity.

****

Despite this, the window remains open, seemingly out of spite.

****

Jeff closes the chest, moving towards Luke again, and cautiously rests a hand on his shoulder.

****

Dean wishes he had some kind of physical form, even if he was still trapped in this place, because the genuine concern on Jeff's face and the relief on Luke's leaves him seething with envy. He wishes he could scream, cry, punch something, do _anything_ to let it out that might make him feel better. Instead, Dean just has to wait helplessly until the feeling fades.

****

“Hey,” Jeff whispers, as if he was trying to evade anyone who could be listening in. _Not me, fucker._

****

“Hey,” Luke replies, just as quiet. Jeff smiles, rubbing Luke's shoulder with his thumb, and Luke reciprocates.

****

“You okay?” Jeff asks, somehow even softer than before. Luke traces Jeff's hand with his own, dangerously close to a caress.

****

Dean doesn't really feel jealous anymore. The specificity of his desires has decreased dramatically, to the point where any physical touch other than pain would put him in a state of euphoria. Even a touch as light as Luke's would make him fall apart.

****

“Yeah. I'll be fine. You?”

****

The phrasing catches Dean a bit by surprise, but it makes sense the more he thinks about it. Jeff wasn't really asking if Luke was okay, but if he needed anything. It wouldn't be right for Luke to claim he was completely okay, they both knew he wasn't, but he would be eventually. He would be fine _on his own._ The easy communication leaves Dean aching again, for anything even vaguely similar, for any contact at all.

****

“I think so,” Jeff replies, looking away as if checking for any potential listeners. Dean feels a bit dirty for continuing to listen after all this time. Still, it's all a show, even if they're speaking too quietly for the mics to pick up. Surely, Jeff knows he can't evade it completely.

****

“Just… I don't know. I wish I could have done something, about Dean, if he wasn't so far away…”

****

“Come on, don't blame yourself.” Luke shrugs off Jeff's hand, catching it and holding it in his own, now speaking louder and more confidently than Jeff must have expected.

****

“I know, I'm not… I don't know. I just don't wanna lose anyone else.” Jeff still struggles to speak much above a whisper, and Dean realizes that it might not be just an attempt to avoid any unwanted listeners. As low as his voice is, Dean can still pick up on the tremors, and Luke gives him those stupid, understanding puppy-dog eyes.

****

“Me neither. But you can't blame yourself for these types of things. Even if you were there, some things you just can't control.”

****

Luke squeezes Jeff's hands, and he smiles, looking down at the ground. A part of Dean yearns to go back, he would take back the painful memory of Mcjones in a heartbeat if it meant being held by Luke again. He doesn't quite feel jealous, however. He knows now that he wasn't being given special treatment, that Luke is just… Always like this. _Always this amazing._ It's somewhat comforting, and makes Dean wonder what Luke's “special treatment” might entail. He can't wait to be out of here, back in his body, to find Luke, and to chase the feeling, even if he refused to call it what it was.

****

The implications of Luke's “special treatment” somehow manages to completely slip Dean's mind. Merely the thought of Luke was dazzling, distracting, intoxicating.

****

Dean feels himself fading, but the stinging that comes with the contemplation is barely noticeable in comparison. Dean couldn't quite make out the end of the conversation, but Jeff leaves the room smiling, satisfied.

****

Luke watches him go, leaning onto the wall for support. He takes a deep breath in, and smiles as he exhales. After all that's happened, Luke's smile still leaves Dean feeling giddy, the warmth still finding a way to settle in despite his lack of a body. Maybe not everyone could tell when Luke's smile was genuine, but Dean certainly feels like he can by now. Right now, Luke's smile feels sincere, calming, even hopeful.

Things aren't hopeless _yet_ , right?


	5. Disconnected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More to do with death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> less graphic than the last chapter but you know what tf goin on. beware

By now, Dean feels... _mostly_ settled into spectating. The beginning is always the hardest, accepting your own death and getting your brain to _shut the fuck up,_ but it's supposed to be a lot smoother from there on out.

  
  
Dean still gets little jolts of pain from time to time, be it from resurfaced memories, getting too caught up in his feelings, or the like. It was mostly the latter, staring at Luke or Jeff (or anyone, really) for too long would always stir up a storm in his chest, be it positive or negative feelings. Almost always lamenting his own death, for a variety of intentions. It's mostly Luke that does that, but the storm always vanishes just as quickly.

  
  
Sometimes staring will bring him a memory, of seasons past, or even of what he's recently witnessed. Jeff repeatedly stressing the fact that he doesn't want to be alone again, or the rose Ray always kept on his person, for no good reason, really. Even the tone of Austin's voice, be it fear, excitement, or trying to pretend like he knew what he was doing.

****

_Especially_ the latter. It's _unfair_ just how much he sounds like his brother sometimes. It doesn't happen often, but _every single time_ it feels like Dean's been sucker punched. It even knocked the wind out of him, back when he was alive.

  
  
All of it was _so familiar_ , it was weirdly off putting. Dean hadn't even noticed most of these things when he was alive, or if he had, he hadn't paid them much mind.

  
  
But now, they were all he had.

  
  
_Until they weren't._

  
  
He hasn't been dead for long, _maybe, oh, how long, two or three days?_ Time is always a bit difficult when you're dead, either you forget or you don't notice at all.

  
  
Not long at all, that's all he knows.

  
  
It wasn't long before they were back on the battlefield, shaken but determined. Dean could feel _something_ pounding, and it takes him a while to realize that it isn't real, that it's just him. Maybe it's his heart, if he still has one, or simply the manifestation of his nerves, the fear, the _memory._

  
  
This was inevitable. They need the pearls. _Still, couldn't they have taken a bit more of a break?_

  
  
Despite his lack of a body, Dean felt like it really could be him on the battlefield with them, jolts of fear and pain coming with every blow taken by one of his friends. Dean wasn't sure if he could bear it, but he wouldn't dare let the window close.

  
  
It was fine, for a while.

  
  
Until it wasn't.

  
  
Little jolts of panic turned into _pounding, suffocating, agonizing fire,_ as they quickly lost control of the fight. The Enderman had switched targets a couple times, but ended up focusing on Luke, and everything happened all too fast for anything to be done. Luke didn't even know what was happening to him, choking out more questions than cries for help.

  
  
Upon collapsing and falling silent, the pain wracking Dean's mind felt much more _physical_ than it should have. Dean remembers that his real body is _somewhere_ , undoubtedly far away from here, but he feels _connected_ again.

  
  
And the connection makes the pain real.

  
  
He can feel himself shivering, convulsing, trying to shake off the pain. Pins prickle all over his body, but dig in especially deep just beneath his ribs, as if they were trying to carve out his chest. The fire is still raging in his mind, showing no signs of dying down, and Dean wonders if he's _actually crying, for real._

  
  
If he's right, that hasn't happened since season two. _Not even after Mcjones... happened._ The tears don't mean anything in the real world, merely drops of water, but it's the closest thing to an emotional physical response he's _ever_ gotten. Since the Rebirth, anyway.

  
  
His body gets _closer_ and _closer_ , and he starts feeling _more_ and _more_. He tries to stay in the game, but there's nothing to cling to but the memory of who they'd just lost, and Dean _can't fucking take it anymore._

  
  
Another rough transition, not unlike his actual death, and he's back in the lobby. He feels himself falling for a moment, and then lands on his bed, the mattress not necessarily a soothing feeling, but grounding all the same. The pain fades into a dull throbbing in the back of his head, and Dean groans as he pulls himself upright.

****

Dean feels _sore,_ that tends to happen whenever he loses a season, but it's another thing he'll never get used to. He stretches his arms up, absentmindedly brushes a hand against his cheek on the way down, and finds it wet.

****

_So I was right._

****

Dean takes a deep breath, scrubs away the remnants of his tears, and tries not to think about just how _bad_ he's got it.

****

Instead, Dean focuses on the room around him, although there isn't necessarily much to see. He wonders where Todd got the design from, because it's obvious he just replicated it from some hotel before the Rebirth, since half of the room is completely redundant.

****

The walls are a lovely shade of beige, the only real source of decoration being the numerous houseplants that don't look quite plastic, but _definitely_ aren't alive. The blankets and the armchair look scratchy as all hell, so Dean figures it's a good thing he can't feel it anymore. The air conditioner serves no purpose other than emitting an annoying whirring. As does the TV, which doesn't even turn on, only buzzes and gets on Dean's nerves in a way he'd never thought possible. The tiny bathroom doesn't have any purpose at all, since Dean isn't really alive anymore, stuck simply _existing_ as he is.

****

No water can wash away the fact that his mind is _rotting_ _away_ inside of his own frozen corpse, and the water doesn't even work anyway.

****

At least his mind _mostly_ still works.

Although, right now, it's still stuck on Luke, which isn't necessarily helping.

****

_Why did it have to be Luke?_

****

_And… so soon?_

Dean’s legs swing over the side and he drags himself off the bed, seemingly of their own accord. As he headed for the door, Dean didn’t really know what he was doing. _This is stupid, impulsive, does Luke even want to see him…?_

****

Dean knows that Luke doesn’t blame him, but he can’t help but blame himself for the reason Luke was so distracted. _This never should have happened…_

****

Regardless, Dean _needs_ to see him again.

****

The door opens up into a hallway of the same simplistic style, but reaching out seemingly endlessly, more rooms than would ever be necessary for the size of the cast. There are empty frames where the room numbers should have been, and every room is exactly the same. Although, the walls are impossibly thin, even for a shitty hotel of the time, so it’s easy enough to figure out who’s in which room. Austin’s is directly to his right, Jeff’s across from his. Mcjones used to be directly across from Dean’s, but that room is now vacant.

****

Luke’s is somewhere to his left, although he wasn’t entirely sure where. Instead, Dean relies on the sound of shifting sheets and low, barely audible whimpers.

****

Something in Dean’s chest is _aching_ again, and Dean needs to be with him again more than ever. Dean picks a room, peers through the already open door, and finds the source of the sound.

****

Luke is still in the game, but his body is twitching like a cat dreaming of chasing something. Luke shivers, his hands trembling, his legs kicking out with slightly more force each time. Dean carefully pads to the other side of the room, trying to get a look at his face. Luke looks almost peaceful, other than the corner of his mouth which was twitching with every involuntary cry.

****

It's kind of adorable, until Dean realizes _he’s fucking suffering._

****

Dean crawls up the foot of the bed, settling behind Luke, and carefully lays his hand on Luke’s shoulder.

****

Eventually, the trembling slows to a halt, Luke’s breathing evening out, and Dean squeezes slightly, rubbing Luke's shoulder with his thumb. Luke moves onto his back, and Dean gives him his space, searching for any sign that Luke is uncomfortable or that he needs to abort mission.

****

No sign of that caliber ever came.

****

Luke slowly comes to his senses, eyes shining with unshed tears focusing on Dean. A relieved smile graces Luke's lips, and Dean feels his heart melting again. _Even if this isn't quite right._

****

“Dean…” Luke chokes out, practically throwing himself onto Dean, but it doesn’t feel the same.

****

Dean can barely feel Luke’s arms around his neck, merely a dull presence in front of him. Dean holds him as tightly as he physically can, but it doesn't seem to have any effect on what little he can feel. At least Luke doesn’t seem to mind, chuckling lightly into his chest. Even if Dean’s presence is somewhat of a comfort to Luke, it’s nothing like the real thing, and it makes Dean want to _scream._

****

“You okay?” Dean asks softly, his hand reaching up to Luke’s face. Neither of them can really feel it, but at least Dean can see his face now, _and damn it, why does he have to be so pretty?_

****

“I…” Luke stammers, his throat going dry in an attempt to find an answer. “Did I die…?”

****

Dean tries to smile, not all that convincing, and wishes he could offer anything more than his mere presence in order to be comforting.

****

“Uh… Yeah.”

****

Luke is silent for a moment, then sighs, shutting his eyes tight and shaking his head.

****

“Yeah, I guess that makes more sense.”

****

Dean cocks his head to the side, absentmindedly running a hand through Luke's hair, an invitation to go on.

****

“I… This sounds stupid, I thought it like- Took me somewhere. And it was dark, I was just panicking and trying to move, and-”

****

“It's okay. You're okay.”

****

The look on Luke's face is _heartbreaking_ , still struggling to recover from the pain, but not quite able to cry.

****

Dean's mind wanders back to Todd. _This is all exactly how he wanted it._ These are their real bodies, and the numbness is meant to motivate them to stay in the game. It isn't a bad way to raise the stakes, making death a lot more painful than it was in the seasons before Todd's occupation. Dean can't quite bring himself to blame him, but still, _this isn't fucking fair._

****

_This_ isn't much better than spectating. The only differences are Luke's presence, despite the lack of any actual physical touch, and the ability to think without being punished. Although now, Dean feels like he's only punishing himself. Even when holding Luke in his arms, Dean feels helpless.

****

Luke is silent again, taking his time getting himself back together. Eventually, he breathes a quick _thank you_ into Dean's chest, and pulls away.

****

“I… Um- I missed you…”

****

Luke looks away, a somewhat guilty smile tugging at his lips. He leaves his hands in Dean's again, and although neither of them can really feel it, the memory of how it felt in the forest makes Dean smile.

****

“I- I saw… that. You,” Dean stammers, and the smile drops from Luke's face, replaced by embarrassment.

****

“Oh… I- Yeah, of course you saw that, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”

****

Dean squeezes Luke's hands, and even the slight increase in presence is enough to cut Luke off from whatever he was going to say.

****

“Don't- don't apologize, it's okay. I missed you too.”

****

Dean laughs at how easy the truth comes to him, and how the look on Luke's face changes back to grateful happiness so quickly.

****

Dean's laughter dies down, but Luke's shows no signs of stopping, and he finds himself staring at Luke through his giggles. Dean isn't quite sure how long he had been staring, but Luke's smile makes him feel warm inside, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Suddenly, in some kind of hypnotized state, Dean was able to find him beautiful without any sense of guilt. This wasn't unfair anymore, this was more right than anything he'd ever felt before, _more right than Mcjones ever could have been._

_…_

****

_I shouldn't say that..._

****

No matter how strong of an effect Luke had on him, it inevitably passes. Dean can feel the moment ending, a slight uneasiness settling into his stomach, and Dean feels like it's his fault. Luke must have noticed, as he sighs, not quite dropping his smile, but an air of realization about him.

****

“I guess we have to get back in, huh?”

****

Dean wishes he could stay with Luke forever, but at the same time he doubts he could stay here for much longer without going crazy.

****

“Oh, yeah… Maybe everyone else is already dead.”

****

“Oh my god, do not jinx it.”

****

The genuine fear and concern on Luke's face is adorable, and Dean pulls him closer, his final attempt at feeling anything. Luke lingers for what felt like an eternity, and Dean wonders if he ever would have broken the hug if Dean didn't break it first. Luke lurches forward as Dean pulls away, but quickly catches himself, sharply reining himself in.

****

“Um… Guess I'll see you around.”

****

“Oh! Almost forgot. I need to talk to you after the end of the season, I… realized some things.” Dean's voice faded a bit at the end of his sentence, but Luke didn't seem to mind.

****

“Oh, okay! See you then.”

****

Dean smiles, trying way too hard to stop staring at Luke _and his stupid, pretty face._

****

They share their goodbyes, and just as Dean is almost out the door, Luke calls out.

****

“Love you!”

****

Dean takes a second to process what Luke had said, then laughs.

****

“Love you too!” Dean shouts much louder than he needed to be, and closes Luke's door behind him. Dean practically floats back to his room, but as soon as he flops back onto his bed, the bubbly feeling in his chest hardens and Dean feels like he can't breathe.

****

Not that it's really necessary for how he's living now, but Dean takes several deep breaths, trying to calm himself and figure out why his brain is _screaming_ at him.

****

…

****

_Was it the “love you?”_

****

_It didn't mean anything, it was platonic, Luke does that all the time. It didn't mean anything more than-_

****

_…_

****

_Oh._

****

Dean moves onto his side, pulls his legs closer to his chest, and lets the thoughts slip out of his mind as he re-enters the game, before he can project any further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok im posting this on the day the finale came out and oh god... oh fuck...
> 
> idk how long this is gonna end up being,, I was thinking 8 or 9 chapters before I saw this weeks eps but now im highkey inspired so who knows how long its actually gonna take to get to the ending I have in mind. the fact that this is already over 10k is wild tho I thought 3k was long when I posted the first chapter but here we are!! thank yall so much for reading its hiatus time and im probably gonna be working on this til I die
> 
> also not gonna lie my main goal is now to reunite luke and waffle. like comment and subscribe
> 
> later edit: ITS OVER 30K OOPS...


	6. Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At this point, Luke deserves to know.

Dean hadn't missed much during his meeting with Luke in the lobby. The final three were still alive, relying on each other, trying to be productive in the mines. _Good._

Dean was actually just in time to watch Ray die. _That was… less good._

_Karma, I guess._

After that, and especially after Austin's death, Dean kind of knew that Jeff wasn't going to win. He wasn't all that invested at this point, just along for the ride, but something Jeff kept saying did get to him.

_It's not a repeat._

_It's not a repeat._

_It's not a repeat…_

The loop thing is certainly interesting, Dean couldn't deny that. He didn't know exactly how much of an effect Todd had on the outcome, but Dean figures he had to have done at least a little cursing. Hell of a coincidence, if he hadn't. It's probably a lot more impactful for those who could actually be invested, but ultimately didn't have much more of an effect on him. Since his breakdown over Luke's death, the pain of spectating has been minimal, only spiking when anyone came close to (or all the way to) death. _It's fine, he's fine._

Until Jeff was alone in the stronghold for an exorbitant amount of time, and Dean had the chance to start really thinking about the repeat.

Of course, his mind wanders back to Luke, choosing to start with him. _It always does._

Luke had died fourth, replacing Mcjones in the cycle.

Dean's mind rejects even the notion of _him,_ being filled with fire and anger, but he forces himself to continue. It's better than feeling nothing, but not by much.

Dean isn't even paying attention to the window at this point, but he assumes he'd be able to figure it out if Jeff died.

In the cycle, Luke replaces Mcjones. Dean can't help but wonder what else Luke might be taking the place of, replacing without even meaning to.

Somewhere, far away, Dean's real body shudders, but he's in too deep to stop now.

Mcjones. His role was _what, the scholar? The professor, the only one who actually knew what he was doing._

The idea is amusing, but only for a moment, as Dean remembers he's _gone_.

Luke is anything but that. If anything, helping out the newbies is Dean's job now. Although, even that definition for Mcjones is questionable. Hell, Dean had won the season Mcjones died first in.

Playing without him felt strange, though. Dean couldn't deny it still felt wrong, although he had been trying to ignore it all throughout the season.

More so, Mcjones' position was really nothing but a juxtaposition to Dean. His purpose was to be cold and calculating, contrasting against Dean's fiery recklessness and his insane capacity for stupidity. And somehow, that contrast made them lovebirds.

The lovebirds part was always something Dean pushed, however. Mcjones always laughed at or flat out ignored Dean's over the top flirtation, but maybe he never really took it seriously. He was supposed to be analytical, nothing ever escaping his scrutiny, but maybe Mcjones had just never noticed. _Or maybe he was just ignoring it..._

Did Dean even know he was serious back then? He can't remember.

It doesn't matter at this point. Mcjones is gone.

And Luke isn't _anything_ like him.

Luke is warm and welcoming, always wanting to help others, no matter how big or small the gesture was. Their bard, of sorts, the healer. Dean remembers the stairs and the glass Luke incorporated everywhere, no matter how unnecessary it really was. It was adorable in its slight redundancy, so unbelievably _Luke_ that it made Dean smile every single time he came across it.

Luke is able to bring such emotion, such passion and caring to even the most mundane things. He really isn't _anything_ like Mcjones. If anything, they're opposites.

But, the lovebirds thing… That's a little harder to explain.

Dean knows for a fact that he loves Luke, every single thing about him being utterly intoxicating. His smile, his voice, how much he cares, how he holds Dean... Loving him is easy, so much simpler than loving Mcjones ever was. It feels almost magical, too good to be true, that perfect, fairy tale love Dean wasn't sure existed.

But... Telling Luke he loved him would be the hardest part. Dean can barely admit it to himself without his mind being flooded with electric, denying, hateful thoughts, regardless of what body he's in.

Dean knows he's projecting, too. Luke cares, sure, but that doesn't mean romantic love. No matter how perfect the idea of holding Luke and kissing him is, no matter how real the butterflies in his stomach and the lead in his chest feel, it's still all in his head. Maybe he had been projecting with Mcjones, too.

Until he confesses, there's no way to know. Until now, Dean hadn't even considered the idea that Luke might leave too. Dean feels himself fading again, his mind trying to electrocute the thoughts away, but clings to the sound of Jeff talking to himself, about whatever repetitive thing he was doing now.

Dean hadn't bothered checking on him in a while, but he finds that he still hadn't missed much. He's still in the stronghold, still looking for ender pearls, still losing his mind a little bit. He's rambling, something to do with how he missed Billy.

And Austin.

And _everyone._

_Poor guy._

…

With his mind somewhat calmed, the thoughts spring back up.

Luke is only a guest, he has other responsibilities, so maybe it's inevitable that he's going to leave. Dean knows he has to confess to him, it's only going to eat him up inside _again_ if he doesn't. He can't imagine Luke lashing out at him like Mcjones had, or leaving without saying goodbye.

But, Dean can _perfectly_ picture the shattered look in Luke's eyes, blaming himself for Dean's own stupid feelings. Dean can see himself sobbing into Luke's arms again, choking out through tears that _it isn't your fault,_ _I'm so fucking sorry_ , but Luke can’t comfort him in the same way he once could. And then he would leave, with regret and self loathing in those pretty, blue eyes. Maybe he wouldn't ever come back.

And yet again, Dean would only have himself to blame.

Who's to say where the similarities between Luke and Mcjones really end. Dean doesn't see it as a Luke thing to do, but maybe he _would_ hate him. Dean sincerely doubts he can handle losing another friend, another love. He doesn't even know what would happen to him. Maybe he'd just fade into obscurity like Mcjones did, running off to some corner of the universe without a goodbye, without leaving any trace.

That's the closest thing you can get to death these days. _Absence._

And if he loses Luke too, it just might kill him.

Dean pauses to calm himself, checking on Jeff. He's still fine, looking for Endermen on the surface. _It's okay._

_Now, where was I…_

Either he confesses to Luke, or he doesn't, and Dean doesn't expect either scenario to end well.

Luke had told him he loved him before, so maybe there was a chance. Maybe Dean could play it off as a joke if Luke didn't react the way he wanted him to. That's what he tried to do with Mcjones, but Mcjones simply refused to let it go. That doesn't seem like a Luke thing to do, _but what do I know?_

Something deep down in Dean knows he has to try. If it goes wrong, then there's nothing that can be done about it. Maybe the repeat extends further than anyone had thought or intended, and that losing Luke is inevitable.

_But if it goes right…_

Dean can't even imagine Luke saying _yes_ without wanting to scream, cry, or kiss him until he ran out of air. The notion is so strong, the subsequent jolt of pain is just as powerful, and Dean has to force himself to stop thinking about it before it kicks him out of the game again.

Dean feels like he's made up his mind.

There's nothing he can do now but wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a 4 day weekend babey so hopefully next chapter will come out in a day or two? then the chapter after that will have waffle in it i promise i need to write that as soon as possible or i will die


	7. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enough is enough.

Admittedly, Dean hadn't been paying the most attention to Jeff's journey. He had a feeling he already knew how it was going to end, and Luke was still lurking in the back of his mind, diverting most of his attention.

****

It shouldn't have, but Jeff's death actually took him by surprise. Everything went silent for a moment, simply staring at Jeff's body, contorted by the fall. Then, the game was abruptly ended, and Dean is back in his room. Laying motionless in his bed, he can hear all sorts of movement from the rooms around him. The shifting (flinging?) of blankets, heavy footsteps from one room to another, whisper yelling and what may have been crying from somewhere across the hallway.

****

It didn't take a genius to figure out it was Jeff and Austin. Another bout of envy rises up in Dean's chest, partially because of their connection, but mostly because they're the only ones who can feel anything in the lobby.

****

Dean vaguely remembers Jeff mentioning in one of the earlier off-seasons that his real body is _“Like, really messed up. Blindingly messed up."_ Presumably, Austin's is similar, so it made sense that their in-game bodies in normal clothes would simply be copied into the lobby, so they could mingle and avoid being in their real bodies, wherever those were. Although Todd had mostly taken over, they still have some authority, and power that came with their past leadership. Still, it doesn't feel entirely fair that they can _feel_ in the lobby, but Dean can’t really bring himself to get too worked up about it. The feeling subsides, and he's stuck just _listening_ again. The talking stops, _they're probably kissing,_ the only sound coming from Jeff's room being hitched breathing and muffled sighs.

****

All around him, the only thing Dean can really focus on is the _breathing._ It's absent from many rooms, particularly his own, but it's deep and overly controlled somewhere to his left. Not exactly _calming,_ but it's something to focus on.

****

Eventually, the sound stops, sighing coming from one of the rooms further to his right, and then footsteps from all around him.

****

_They're probably headed downstairs, to talk and “celebrate” and whatever._ Dean can’t quite bring himself to follow them. The footsteps move all up and down the hallway, quiet conversations popping up and fading away as they were taken downstairs.

****

Suddenly, there's a knock at his door, and Dean knows right away who it is. _Nobody else would come here._ Luke lets himself in and pads across the room, trying to get a good look at Dean. Dean flips over to face Luke, and finds him smiling sweetly, a carefree, somewhat sleepy look in his eyes.

****

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Luke murmurs, sounding like he's a lot more tired than Dean actually is. Dean groans low in his throat, stretching against the mattress, then sitting up to face Luke with an inexplicable smile on his face.

****

“G’morning,” Dean mumbles, Luke approaching to help him out of bed. Luke holds Dean's hands, either forgetting that neither of them could feel it or not caring at all. It didn't really matter to Dean, the gesture alone was enough to make him smile.

****

“Rest well?” Luke asked, his smile wide and childish, his voice oddly… _teasing? Or, no…_

****

“Not really.” Dean chuckles at the end of his dismissal, impatiently swinging Luke's hands in his own back and forth. “You wanna head down? I kinda forgot what Austin said we were gonna do, though.”

****

Dean isn't quite sure what he's feeling, nervous yet eager to be with the others. All of his feelings about Luke are so strong yet so contradictory, Dean has no idea what he really wants half the time. Although right now in particular, Dean feels like he's going to combust if they don't get moving soon.

****

There's a brief flash of surprise on Luke's face, of confusion, _disappointment,_ but he quickly recovers as if it had never been there.

****

“Oh, sure! I don't think we're doing anything in particular, just chilling for now. I just thought maybe you wanted to talk about that… thing you mentioned, just so you could get it off your chest.”

****

Luke smiles innocently, and Dean feels _fucking awful_ for feeling the way he does, about his recent realizations and in general.

****

“O-Oh, I… I think I need a bit more time, actually... Kind of realized even more stuff…”

****

Another flash of surprise, but Luke doesn't seem to mind.

****

“Oh, that's fine! Just let me know when you're ready.” Luke is still smiling, but there's a glint of concern in his eyes, even more so than there was before.

****

Dean smiles back, just having to pray he wasn't making Luke worry too much.

****

“Also, we should probably talk to people,” Dean huffs, overexaggerating his petulance.

****

“I guess…” Luke sighs, the worry vanishing from his face, replaced with that same joke-y smile, the one that gives Dean butterflies in his stomach and spreads warmth throughout his entire body. Dean still can't help but feel a little guilty. “Let's go then.”

****

Luke tugs Dean along, never taking his hand back from Dean's grip. Dean isn't entirely sure why. It's comforting, sure, but Dean wonders who Luke is _really_ doing it for.

****

Dean mutters a quiet _thank you_ as they make their way to the staircase. Luke doesn't respond. Maybe he didn't hear.

****

The staircase doesn't entirely fit with the general décor, easily the grandest thing in the lobby. It spirals infinitely in both directions, despite there rarely being anything above or below the entrance and the rooms. The dark wood creaks under their steps, Luke still allowing Dean to cling to his hand as he led the way, like a royal escort.

****

_What was that about this being like a fairy tale…?_

****

The entrance opens up to waiting rooms on both sides, cozy and calm. Conversations float up and slowly come into focus as Dean approaches, the smell of smoke and flowers filling the room.

****

Luke lowers his hand as soon as Dean makes it to the floor, and Dean reluctantly lets go. Luke starts off to the room to the right without another word, presumably spotting the others, and Dean follows close behind. The quick dismissal makes Dean a bit uneasy, although he isn't entirely sure why. He didn't need to be the object of Luke's attention _all of the time_ , _but…_

****

Dean silently thanks himself for postponing his confession, because _no way in hell_ is he ready yet. Finally, a name comes to the heavy feeling in his chest, _fear._

****

Dean forces a smile, and practically launches himself into the nearest armchair, his legs swinging over the armrest. He sits through a couple _hello’_ s and half baked conversations, and the excitement of their arrival eventually dies down. Despite the quiet conversations and the sound of fake fire crackling behind him being somewhat calming, they can't keep him from staring at Luke. Luke is sitting across from him, his hand on Jeff's shoulder, that same sweet, comforting smile gracing his lips. The details of the conversation fade, but the names Billy and Waffle keep coming back up, so Dean supposes it has something to do with them.

****

More importantly, Dean has to focus on calming the irrationally jealous storm brewing in his chest, trying to stop himself from snapping and dragging Luke away from him, claiming what was _his_.

****

…

****

_His?_

****

Luke is laughing again, and Jeff is laughing with him, holding onto Luke for stability, and Dean feels like he might scream.

****

_Do you even know what you do to me?_

****

“Hey,” Jared whispers directly into Dean's ear, making him jolt upright.

****

“Oh my- Mmph- Jared!” Dean yelps, falling back into his previous position with a playful scowl on his face. Jared chuckles, smirking smugly.

****

“Oh- Didn't mean to scare you. Hey.”

****

Dean knows that's a lie, but he just isn't in the mood to talk. _Maybe Jared will just go away…_

****

“You okay?” Jared asks after a pause, the smugness turning into mildly concerned curiosity. Dean takes a moment to actually process the question, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the thoughts.

****

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

****

Jared isn't convinced at all, leaning over his armrest to whisper into Dean’s ear.

****

“You were staring.”

****

Dean forces himself not to physically react to that, instead scratching at and squeezing the fake leather with a dangerous intensity. The corner of his mouth twitches slightly, but he keeps down any other reaction, forces himself not to tell Jared to _fuck off._

****

“Was I?”

****

“Yes,” Jared grunts, not quite with annoyance, but impatience. “Don’t… Don’t do this.”

****

Dean doesn’t look at him, instead staring up at the empty ceiling. _What does that even mean?_

****

Jared pauses again, waiting for Dean to say something, which never happens. He glances back at Jeff and Luke, and seems to realize something, as Dean can practically _hear_ the smirk he knows Jared is wearing again.

****

“... Is it Luke?”

****

Dean exhales, but it comes out more like an involuntary groan, and wants nothing more than for Jared to _just shut up._

****

_Well, I guess I also want more than that…_

****

Without even meaning to, a barely audible _yeah_ stains Dean’s lips, an involuntary invitation for Jared to continue.

****

“That’s what I thought. What’s… If you don’t mind, what’s happening between you two?”

****

_Oh, I mind._

****

“It’s nothing. I- Just…”

****

Dean knows lying to Jared isn’t going to work. _Lying to myself is so much easier._

****

“I've had a lot on my mind recently, and… I don’t even know. I was talking to him about how I feel and stuff, but now he’s got me feeling even more stuff…” Dean laughs softly at himself, finally looking back at Jared and finding him listening intently. “I don’t know. I’m just trying to figure out if… If I’m even ready for how I feel about him.”

****

Jared is silent for a moment, glancing back at Luke for a split-second, and the look on his face is one of sympathy. _One that I don't deserve._

****

“What… Is this about what happened with…”

****

Jared was already whispering, but now seems hesitant to even say _his_ name. Dean nods, keeping him from even needing to say it. Dean closes his eyes tight, and shakes his head again, trying desperately to stop thinking about it here before he made a fool of himself.

****

“I think I’m gonna tell him, don’t worry about me. I’m just trying to figure out how, and like… get myself together,” Dean sighs, forcing another smile. Dean can’t tell if the room is actually quieter now, or if the panic settling into his stomach and the pounding in his ears is just drowning everything else out. Jared nods, that smug, knowing smirk back on his face and as irritating as ever.

****

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything. If you need me to distract everyone else so you can make your escape…”

****

Dean laughs, louder than he had meant to, and Jared seems proud that he had brought that side of him back out.

****

“I will. Thank you.”

****

Before Dean can really process it, Jared stands up and walks away, leaving room in his chair for Luke to flop down in his place. Luke sighs, and looks at Dean with that same goofy, adorable smile, unaware of Dean’s previous conversation.

****

“That didn’t take long,” Dean teases, adjusting so his arm hung over the armrest and Luke could take Dean’s hand into his own.

****

“Can’t help it. I missed you.”

****

Luke's voice dips lower than usual, and Dean feels a rush of _something,_ rising from his chest up into his throat. Not quite fear, not heavy enough to be dread. _Adrenaline?_

Dean's brain seems to have a problem with sending words to his mouth without his consent.

****

“... Can I show you something? Or, just, see if it still works?”

****

Luke grins, and Dean wonders if his smile will ever get old or wear off on him. Dean doubts it ever will.

****

“Sure.”

****

Dean swings his legs off the side of the armchair, and ignores the murmurs rising from the others as he holds Luke’s hand and leads him back to the staircase. However, Luke hesitates as he realizes Dean is leading him down, only just processing what Dean had meant.

****

“Wait, I thought there wasn’t anything downstairs…?”

****

Dean looks back at Luke, who is blinking quickly, trying to make sense of it. His face reads pure confusion, with a tinge of intrigued curiosity and an appreciation for the absurdity, his smile never completely leaving his lips. Dean shrugs, tugging harder on Luke’s hand, and that was all the motivation he needed.

****

“Sometimes there is.”

****

Luke is silent for a moment, the only sound being their footsteps and the increasing echo as they descended.

****

“... Great.”

****

The homely beige walls transitioned into concrete, and the wooden staircase opened up again into somewhere completely unfitting. The hallway is entirely concrete, the fluorescent lights rather uninviting, the smell of chlorine almost overwhelming.

****

Luke didn’t say anything, but Dean knows he has to be incredibly confused as Dean gleefully leads him down the hallway. Through another uninvitingly prison-ish door, and Dean sighs in relief. _It’s still here._

****

The same cold, concrete floors suddenly feel a lot more comfortable, the same empty gray walls now with windows that only shows black, empty space, and the same empty swimming pool now takes the center of the stage. Dean walks towards it, lets go of Luke’s hand, squats down and swings his legs over the side.

****

Luke hesitates for a moment, but joins Dean on the edge, still struggling to understand why any of this was here.

****

“Well… Huh.” Luke sighs incredulously, only partially accepting of this turn of events. “Uh, why… How did you even find this?”

****

“... Oh, it was, uh…” Dean takes a moment to remember, and it clearly isn't a pleasant memory. Luke scoots closer to him so that their shoulders are touching, which alone is enough to make Dean smile. “It- Heh, it was this last off-season. I was looking for somewhere quiet, so I was coming down from the rooms, and- I don't know, I wasn't thinking. I just kept going down, and then I found this.”

****

Luke hums in acknowledgement, not bothering to question exactly what Dean was running from. He has a feeling he already knows.

****

“... Do you think they ever fill this up, or something…?”

****

Dean finds himself staring again, focusing on how the harsh fluorescent lighting somehow lands softly on his face, the blue tint almost otherworldly. On how softly he’s speaking, yet how his voice fills the room, and just how adorably _oblivious_ the question itself is.

****

Dean has to tear his eyes away, staring down into the pool below him.

****

“Probably not. Todd says no liquids allowed in the lobby. They throw off the stability, or something.”

****

Come to think of it, Dean does kind of wish it was full. Swimming isn't a foreign concept, he’s had to do it in just about every season, but the idea of the pool itself feels just slightly _off._ Staring down into this concrete hole, whose only purpose was to be swam in, feels oddly familiar to Dean. He figures it must be a memory from before the Rebirth. On the tip of his tongue, but just out of his reach.

****

For a moment, Dean wishes he was at the bottom instead of the edge, but doesn't bother trying to understand it. Dean knows it isn't worth it. Almost every memory he's pursued, especially the ones as vague as these, always lead to a dead end.

****

It doesn't matter. Dean figures he's just trying to distract himself, and that he should _just get to the point already._

****

“... You mean, no liquids in like, large quantities, right?”

****

“Oh, yeah.” Dean chuckles at the need for clarification. Luke had probably heard the crying too, although who's to say on which instance, exactly.

****

“Good. I was about to be worried.”

****

Luke falls silent again, and that same tense, suffocating feeling is back. _He's waiting._

****

“So, uh… Can I start with the stuff I was thinking about?”

****

Dean didn't really know why he was asking, Luke wouldn't be waiting for anything else. Maybe he just wanted to be sure. Maybe he just wanted Luke to tell him _yes._

****

“Of course. Go ahead.”

****

Dean takes a deep breath, subconsciously leaning onto Luke’s shoulder.

****

“Okay, so… You know the thing with the death order, this season being a repeat of season five?”

****

Dean waits for Luke to respond, who did so by humming and wrapping his arm around Dean’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

****

“I… You’re not Mcjones.”

****

Even the _name_ makes Dean shiver, and Luke stiffens at the mention. Despite this, Luke remains silent.

****

“You are… I don’t even know how to explain what you do to me. You are so much more, I… You’re nothing like him. You’ve already done so much for me, and you’re so nice, and good, and warm, and-”

****

Dean cuts himself off as his eyes fill with tears, reeling from the impact of the realization that _oh God, this is really happening._ He isn’t even supposed to be able to cry here, but his throat is closing up all the same, and Dean wants nothing but to run and hide.

****

There's no chance of that happening, though. Luke’s arm around him isn’t going anywhere, and just the _look_ on Luke’s face is enough to freeze him in place.

****

Not angry. Not disgusted. Not even confused.

****

He’s _smiling._

****

“Hey, no liquids in the lobby,” Luke murmurs, swiping his thumb across Dean’s cheek. _Oh my God._ Dean can’t even stand to look at Luke, nervous laughter bubbling up in his chest as he tries to continue.

****

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… Please don’t hate me, I think I’m in love with you.”

****

_Jesus,_ Dean feels like his heart is going to burst, perpetually on the verge of bursting into tears but being held back by the numbness of this existence. Dean has no idea which side is going to win.

****

“Dean, look at me.”

****

Dean forces himself to turn his head, struggling for air he didn’t necessarily need in an attempt to calm himself. Dean is so caught up in his own emotional whirlwind that he almost doesn’t realize just how _close_ Luke is, how his eyes are shining with joy, relief, and unshed tears.

****

“I could never. I love you too, ya dingus.”

****

…

****

Dean feels like he could die, right here, and it all would have been worth it. It feels like his brain is short-circuiting again, every single coherent thought vanishing and leaving him with only the knowledge that he was in _love._ Luke presses his lips against Dean’s forehead, the moment so sudden and fleeting Dean almost missed it. Dean wishes he could actually feel it, wishes he could actually feel Luke's arm around him, but his mere presence is enough.

****

For once, Dean feels like he’s enough.

****

They’re sitting in silence for God knows how long, and Luke sounds like he’s breaking his own heart by breaking the silence.

****

“Okay, I… I need to talk to Todd, but I just need you to know that I love you, okay?”

****

Dean can’t find the words to respond to that, only nods and wishes Luke could stay.

****

“I… I didn’t wanna cross too many boundaries, since you’re still healing and all, but… I think you’re amazing. And hilarious, and adorable, and… I need to talk to Todd, but after that we can figure all this out, okay?”

****

Dean can barely process the words, and simply nods. Luke pulls away, bringing his legs up and kneeling next to Dean.

****

Dean sighs, already feeling the loss in presence, but the memory and the warmth spreading through his entire body is enough to keep him in a state of bliss.

****

“I love you,” Dean says proudly, without any sense of guilt. Luke grins as he stands up, satisfied.

****

“I love you too. Bye!!”

****

“Bye!!” Dean calls out after him, flopping onto his back as Luke leaves.

****

Dean takes a moment to collect himself, staring up at the ceiling, and finds it physically impossible to wipe the stupid smile off his face.

****

_Holy shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit this one got long gkdsjk  
> now I can finally start writing the part with The Son thank god


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke's scheme is revealed.

Dean had no idea how long he had just been laying there on the floor. Minutes, hours, days, there was no way to tell. Even after Luke's departure, the encounter left him exhilarated, catatonic in a state of giddy happiness. _He loves me._

****

Nobody ever came down to check on him, Dean was only waiting to regain control of his body so that he could get back to the others. Although, that didn't seem like it would happen for quite a while.

****

And so, that leaves him here. This concrete floor, strangely comfortable. Blankly staring up at an empty ceiling, a storm of emotions swirling in his chest, although for once, they're overwhelmingly positive. _He actually loves me._

****

Parts of him still struggle to process it, refuse to believe it could possibly be true. Screaming their denials, but they can barely be heard over the storm.

****

_I don't deserve him._

****

Dean already knew that, he's been over that before. Luke just so happens to love him too, so it's obvious that he doesn't really mind.

****

_He's lying._

****

Luke wouldn't. Dean doesn't question how he knows that, but he just knows Luke wouldn't.

****

_He doesn't really love me, he just feels bad for me._

****

Maybe. Regardless, that's better than lashing out and running away like Mcjones did. _Who cares whether or not we become an actual, romantic thing. We're okay. I didn't ruin this, at least not yet._ Although, come to think of it, that voice might have a point. _Where did Luke even go…?_

****

_He lied. He's leaving. Forever. You ruined it, again._

****

Dean still believes Luke wouldn't, although not quite as confidently as before. He said he had to talk to Todd, but Dean has no idea _why,_ or if he was even telling the truth.

****

Dean feels stupid, even guilty for getting himself down again, so soon after he had just been hit with an ideal situation. _Just be patient,_ Dean tells himself, _he’ll be back. He wasn't lying._ Dean laughs weakly, finally gathering the energy to sit up and get back upstairs, Luke still unshakable from his mind.

****

Dean figures it might actually be a good thing he's alone. Nobody knows he's been grinning like an idiot for ages on end.

****

Dean drags himself upstairs, throws himself into the same armchair from before, and sighs. The brief greetings and conversations around him fade into buzzing incoherence, and Dean is almost too busy reliving the memory of Luke holding him to notice Jared calling his name.

****

“Oh- Dean…?”

****

“Hey, Earth to Dean!”

****

“We aren't even on Earth, Peebs.”

****

_Oh. Austin is here too, I guess._

****

Dean cranes his neck over the armrest, smiling up at Jared and noticing Austin still towering over him, despite leaning heavily onto Jared's armchair.

****

“Howdy,” Dean sighs, not bothering to hide the dizzying giddiness the encounter left him with. Dean couldn't even fully focus on Jared or Austin's face, and he didn't really want to.

****

“Well, I'd ask how it went, but-”

****

“Let me guess, well?” Austin interrupts, giggling like a child. Dean briefly wonders why Jared had presumably told the others about him and Luke, and what reason they had to be so interested, but supposes he did the same when Austin and Jeff became a thing. He knows they did this for him and Mcjones, just not as obviously, since they were never official. He didn't really mind. _Better than being abandoned._

****

“... Yeah. It went… really well.” Dean can't help but laugh at the sight of Austin beaming at him, and the sight of Jared impatiently tapping on the armrest.

****

“Okay, great- _Details,_ Dean.” Jared huffs, briefly glancing over at something across the room. Dean didn't bother trying to figure out who or what Jared was glaring at, focusing more on what he was going to say.

****

“... That's classified.”

****

Jared rolls his eyes, Austin pouts like a child, and a loud _“HA!”_ echoes from across the room.

****

“SHUT UP!” Austin yells back, and it doesn't take long for Dean to realize what's happened while he was away. 

****

“... A little early for bets…” Dean mumbles as Jeff glides across the floor towards them. Dean doesn't bother looking at any of them directly, instead staring up at the ceiling once more.

****

“Mhm. I mean it Austin, give him time,” Jeff tuts, tugging on Austin's arm.

****

“Can't help it!” Austin squawks, squirming out of Jeff's grip. Jared doesn't bother watching them squabble either, sneaking off to the other side of the room after shooting Dean a knowing glance. “I got excited! I mean- He's got Luke in his corner, who could have expected that? I wish Luke was my boyfriend!”

****

“Excuse me!?” Jeff shrieks overdramatically, and Dean elects to follow Jared's lead before this escalates any further.

****

Dean collapses into another armchair in the opposite waiting room, and can still hear the yelling, punctuated by stifled laughter in between nearly every sentence.

****

_Annoying, but weirdly endearing..._

****

“Dean, I need you to promise me something. If you and Luke become a thing, _please_ stave off the old married couple thing for like, a week at least. I'm think I'm gonna lose my mind,” Jared grumbles, leaning against the fireplace.

****

“Uh- I'll try…” Dean mutters, still struggling to comprehend how this had all happened so quickly. However long ago it was when Dean and Luke had gone downstairs, they were thought to be acquaintances at best, and now they're ‘a thing,’ as Jared put it. They aren't even official, and Dean has no idea how much Luke had told them. Still, Dean is too tired to refute Jared's implication, and he didn't really mind anyway.

****

Maybe becoming ‘a thing’ was just a natural progression for them. Maybe they didn't have to hide it.

****

“Uh… I was going to ask if you knew where Luke went, or if you knew what he was doing?” Dean asks, to no response. He wasn't sure if Jared heard him, until he craned his neck enough to see the smirk on Jared's face.

****

“That's classified.”

****

Dean sighs, glaring at Jared and curling in on himself.

****

“But you do know?” Dean asks, not bothering to move to look at Jared. Jared hums in affirmation. _At least that means he didn't run off…_

****

Jared is silent for a moment, and the only thing Dean can hear is Jeff and Austin bickering in the other room, more laughter than anything else now. Come to think of it, he isn't even sure where Ray and Barry went…

****

“Can I ask you something personal, I guess? About Mcjones,” Jared asks suddenly, reluctance clear in his voice.

****

“Uh… Sure,” Dean replies off handedly, not entirely sure as to what he was enabling.

****

“What… What even happened to _him?_ You're the only person I've heard even mention him since he… just, left. I don't even know, it's kinda freaking me out.”

****

Dean takes a deep breath, and while attempting to think up a response, can't help focusing on the laughter from across the room.

****

The sounds are distinct at first, Jeff's high and breathy, Austin's giddy, familiar, and unable to be stifled, no matter how hard he tries.

****

Then the sounds blend together, _everything_ blends together, and _his_ laughter is the only thing Dean can hear.

****

Dean flinches, squeezing the armrest, trying to shake the memory out of his mind. He refuses to think about how or why Mcjones still affects him this badly.

****

“It's just… Nobody really knows. I know Austin's been trying to contact him, but I haven't heard anything from him so I assume he hasn't had any luck…” Dean trails off, the sounds from across the room coming back into focus.

****

_Not Mcjones. Just Austin._

****

_Why do they sound so damn alike…?_

****

“You don't have any clue at all? He just… up and left?” Jared questions, not portraying much emotion at all in his voice. Dean doesn't feel like moving to look at him, so he's left in the dark on what Jared's thinking.

****

“... No clue at all.”

****

It's a lie, Dean knows it is, he can still _feel_ Mcjones pushing him away, he can still _see_ _the confusion and the disgust and the hatred_ written on every one of his pretty little features, more vividly than any other memory he can conjure up. It's a lie, and he knows it.

****

Jared doesn't respond, simply sighs, and Dean has a feeling he's been caught.

****

“Dean, if you need anything, you should ask. I mean it. Me, and the rest of us, we're here for you.”

****

Dean wants to curl into a ball and disappear, because Jared's lecture is the last thing he needs right now. All he wants is silence, _all he needs is Luke._

****

“... I know,” Dean mutters, hoping Jared will just _shut up_ if he gives him what he wants. “I'm still working myself out, but I'll be fine.”

****

Dean doesn't look at Jared, instead pondering all of the emotions Jared could be feeling right now. Maybe he's satisfied by Dean's half-assed response, or maybe he just pities him. Maybe he's going to pull a Mcjones and call him _pathetic_ again. _Who knows._

****

“... You should go back up to your room, wait there for Luke or Todd. I'm not sure which. But I think you'll like what he's planning.”

****

Dean doesn't have to be told twice. He stutters out a couple goodbyes and hurries up the stairs, eager to escape the noise.

****

Dean throws himself onto his bed, and a whispered question comes out without meaning to.

****

“What the hell are you doing…?”

****

Dean isn't even sure who he's asking.

****

And so, Dean waits.

****

He might have fallen asleep, he can't quite remember, but eventually there's a knock at the door.

****

No, not the door. The wall next to his bed.

****

Todd always lets himself in.

****

Todd has a different body in this dimension, unlike Jeff and Austin's which are simply copied and pasted. It's much more human-like, hair pulled back into a ponytail, but still wearing dark wizard-ish robes similar to the ones in the game. Dean wishes he couldn't tell the difference.

****

“Okay. Everything's set up. Three days, in game, to get out whatever you need to get out. Don't say I never did anything for you.”

****

Dean props himself up and stares at Todd blankly. Somehow, every single word fails to register.

****

“... What?”

****

Todd rolls his eyes.

****

“Just- Whatever, just get in the game. Luke will explain.”

****

Still, the sentence doesn't quite register.

****

“... Okay?” Dean mutters, laying back down on his back, and is thrown back into the game before he can even realize it.

****

The game takes a moment to load, pitch black snapping into pure white, and the blinding light slowly forming the world around him.

****

It takes a moment to realize where he is at first, the air filled with the smell of pine and smoke, the room filled with the sound of…

****

Well, many things.

****

Other than the wind blowing against the windows, the house is remarkably silent, apart from the room next to him. Distantly, Dean can hear the barking and somewhat pained howling of a wolf, and profuse apologizing mixed with the typical baby talk when talking to a dog.

****

Dean pads over to the entrance, not wanting to intrude, and finds Luke splayed out on the floor, looking like he was close to tears.

****

“Oh my God- Hey, hi! I'm so sorry, oh my God, baby, I'm so sorry, oh my-”

****

It’s getting harder to hear Luke over Waffle’s howling, seemingly torn between enjoying the belly rubs he was receiving, celebrating Luke's return, and mourning everyone else he had lost.

****

Dean can't help but whimper at that, a hand clutching his chest.

****

He isn't sure who is cuter.

****

Luke flashes a quick, apologetic smile at Dean before redirecting his attention to Waffle, a brief flick of his momentarily free hand inviting Dean over. Dean settles onto his knees next to Luke, scratching the top of Waffle’s head and behind his ear. Another couple weak howls fade into panting, and Waffle goes completely limp onto his back, his tongue falling out of his mouth, seemingly forgetting all about whatever he had been howling about only moments ago.

****

“Oh my God…” Dean sighs, his newly free hand somehow finding its way into Luke's for comfort. Luke exhales, a slight chuckle coming with it, finally tearing his eyes away from Waffle and letting them settle on Dean.

****

“Uh… Hey,” Luke says, squeezing Dean's hand as if he was embarrassed. Dean takes one last glance at Waffle, just to be sure he's asleep, and the way his paws are twitching confirms it. _He must get that from Luke._

****

Dean looks back at Luke and smiles.

****

“Hey.” Dean can't keep himself from laughing at the pure absurdity of the situation, still clueless as to what Luke did and why they were here.

****

“Uh… Welcome home,” Luke says with a somewhat nervous smile, and Dean realizes he hadn't even processed that _holy shit we’re home_ yet. Emptier, quieter, but they're home.

****

Dean feels like he might start crying again.

****

“What… Oh my God, what did you do, how did you even…”

****

Luke smiles, whatever nervousness he was still holding onto dropping from his face. The way his lips curve upwards and the way his eyes shine slightly brighter feels utterly _radiant_ to Dean. Dean isn't sure exactly where the thought had come from, but suddenly, he really, _really_ wants to kiss him. Dean almost has to physically restrain himself to keep from jumping onto Luke, hoping to taste the sunlight dripping from his lips.

****

Dean pushes the thought away. _Just a thought._

****

“Oh, I had a fairly long conversation with Todd. Did he tell you the deal?”

****

“He tried, but not really,” Dean chuckles, carefully scooting over to face Luke without waking Waffle. Another hand clasps Dean's own, and he can feel his heart practically _flutter._

****

“Oh, okay. Well, we got three days in here to relax, maybe get out whatever's on your mind…” Luke punctuates by squeezing Dean's hands, rubbing his thumbs over Dean's own. “... Mostly so I can actually feel this. So we can.”

****

The urge to _fucking launch_ himself onto Luke is coming back again, and Dean _has_ to distract himself.

****

“... Okay, but still, how…?”

****

Luke laughs, the memory probably absurd.

****

“Uh… Man, I don't even remember what I said. Something about what just happened downstairs, how I feel about you, what you're going through, uh- Barry was there, he was playing the trumpet-”

****

“Wh- _Please_ tell me you didn't… Please tell me you didn't freestyle at Todd…”

****

Luke averts his eyes, smiling wide and shrugging.

****

“Oh my God. And it _worked?_ ”

****

“You doubt my tender freestyling skills?” Luke accuses, never letting his smile drop off of his face, even in mock offense.

****

“I'm just saying, if I were Todd, I'd probably smite you.”

****

“Wow, I thought you loved me!” Luke overdramatically snatches one hand back from Dean's grip, clutching his chest. However, he still leaves his other hand in Dean’s. Dean rolls his eyes.

****

“I guess,” Dean relents, and at this point, Dean just wants to _shut him up,_ the urge surfacing too quickly for Dean to hold it back.

****

“I mean, he probably just felt bad. And he's gotta keep up a good rapport with his guests. Also Ray was there to hype me up, which probably h-”

****

In an instant, Dean's lips were on Luke's, and somehow, Luke seems to relax into it quicker than Dean. Luke wraps an arm around Dean's waist, practically pulling him into his lap. Luke exhales heavily through his nose as Dean wraps his arms around his neck, willing to do anything to get them closer together. Dean wonders if he's hallucinating, because he can actually _taste_ the warmth on Luke's lips, along with something like cinnamon and sea salt. Dean breaks away to catch his breath, his eyes fluttering open to find Luke smiling fondly, chuckling low in his throat.

****

“See what my tender freestyling brings us? Couldn't do that in the real world.”

****

“Please, just shut up,” Dean sighs, pressing his face into Luke's chest. They both fall silent, Dean fidgeting with the wool on Luke's back, listening to him breathing. Luke runs a hand through Dean's hair, mostly just focusing on holding Dean closer. A brief glance at Waffle, and Luke finds him still sleeping like a rock, so there's no rush for any of them.

****

“... Thank you,” Dean mumbles into Luke's chest, half hoping he wouldn't hear. Clearly, Luke did, as he sighs and holds Dean slightly tighter.

****

“No problem. I love you,” Luke murmurs, wearing a smile that Dean couldn't see.

****

“I love you too,” Dean says, barely able to even process the words he was saying. _He actually loves me…_

****

Dean pulls away reluctantly, knowing he can't hold onto Luke forever, no matter how much he wants to.

****

“So, um… What are we doing here again?” Dean chuckles, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

****

“Oh, nothing in particular. I do have a couple ideas though…”

****

“Hmm, lemme hear ‘em,” Dean murmurs, collapsing back into Luke's arms.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we finally made it to the part with waffle we did it kids
> 
> also kissing but like. waffle is more important
> 
> I think this is gonna end up being 13 chapters?? I don't wanna set it as that yet incase I split up or combine some chapters or maybe ill fuck around and write an epilogue but. I am a man with a plan
> 
> later edit: wow I was actually close. crazy


	9. Escapism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adventure!

Dean wasn't entirely conscious as Luke listed his ideas, instead focusing on the warmth of Luke's touch, still struggling to process the fact that Luke _actually_ _did this_ for him. The sound of Luke's voice is melodic, calming enough to nearly put him to sleep. The only thing keeping him awake is his continued lack of understanding of the situation he had found himself in. Dean tried to listen, but most of Luke's words failed to register. However, Dean did manage to catch the words _adventure, the islands,_ and _away from here._

That alone was enough to convince him. Dean can't imagine Luke saying anything that he would actually want to say no to.

“Sounds good to me,” Dean mutters, still pressed into Luke's chest. Dean can feel Luke's heartbeat, and while he wasn't exactly paying attention, it now seems much faster than it was before. Dean can’t see it, but he knows Luke is beaming at him from the low chuckle that escapes his throat, how he holds Dean slightly tighter and runs his fingers through Dean's hair.

Come to think of it, Dean actually wishes their plans could wait. Dean had been waiting for Luke to hold him like this for _ages_ , and Luke is just as reluctant to let go, so much so that Dean has to practically rip himself out of Luke's arms. Dean knows they only have three days, so they have to get moving. Maybe they'll have more time to cuddle on… Wherever they're going.

Luke sighs as Dean pulls away, but he doesn't have time to be disappointed. He has things to do, _probably,_ that Dean would know more about if he had actually been able to listen.

Waiting isn't all that bad though. Luke doesn't take too long, and Dean spends most of that time zoned out, staring out the window. Trying to understand how _this is actually happening, this is real, he loves me,_ feels like running in circles, inevitably coming back around to _this can't be real, he's lying, I don't deserve him._ At a certain point, Dean just wishes Luke would hurry up, because he hates doing this to himself. The only thing breaking him out of the cycle is Waffle occasionally trotting up to him asking to be pet, and even those occasions are short lived as Waffle decides he misses Luke again.

It wasn't even midday by the time Luke was ready, but it still felt like ages to Dean.

“Hey. Ready to go?” Luke asks, Waffle at his heels, still wanting to be pet. Luke looks back at Dean for a moment, then crouches down, granting the scratches. Dean smiles, finally forcing himself to turn away from the window.

“Uh- Yeah. Should I be bringing anything?”

Luke is silent for a moment, contemplating, the only sound being Waffle’s blissful panting.

“Uh- I mean, I guess we should bring armor, just in case, but other than that it should be fine,” Luke muses, heading back into the chest room with Waffle happily trotting behind him. Dean follows him in, watching him search for iron.

“Not fighting any Endermen, are we?”

“God, no,” Luke chuckles, finally finding a stack of iron and fashioning it into armor. “I mean, unless you _want_ to get your revenge...”

“Mmm- Not really,” Dean sighs, eager to just get going, to be able to take everything off his mind. Luke hands him a set of armor, which Dean distractedly puts on. Really, he’s much more interested in the way Luke's armor fits him, how it reflects the sunlight, and how that sunlight somehow manages to perfectly light up his face, utterly _angelic._

Dean is lost in thought for a moment, but Luke eventually grabs his hand, smiling that same, stupid, _adorable_ smile.

“Ready?”

Dean smiles back, and without even thinking about it, presses a quick peck to Luke's lips.

Especially considering their previous kisses, neither of them were expecting Luke to get as flustered as he did. Luke giggles, turning away, trying to hide how red his face was.

“Ah- Oh… Right. Yes.”

Dean barely even has time to laugh before Luke drags him out the door, into the cold. Like a switch being flipped, Dean's mind switches from fixating on Luke to the forest itself.

This freezing, snowy forest was where it all started. Where they spawned, where Todd confronted him, where Luke held him for the first time, and where they both died.

And now, they were leaving. Maybe not for good, but for now. Dean isn't sure if he loves or hates this place, but that doesn't matter now. They're leaving, looking for something new, together.

Dean doesn't want to walk through this forest alone ever again.

Luke probably wouldn't let him. Maybe he'd go on about Dean getting a cold, despite that type of sickness not really existing here. Or maybe he’d insist on going with Dean, just to make sure nothing happens to him, or to simply enjoy the scenery. Either way, to be with him.

It's a strange feeling, that ‘clinginess.’ Dean knows it's been used to describe him on nearly every season with Mcjones. There's a certain guilt that comes with it, despite Dean usually being particularly shameless. Regardless, it's nothing new. Of course he would feel that way about Luke.

The strange part is the reciprocation. Dean sees parts of himself in the way Luke _wants_ the way he does, how his touches are light yet desperate, how he followed Dean out into the snow that one, fateful day without knowing why. Especially in how he doesn't always know how to process affection, what Dean does to him.

A strange feeling, that leaves Dean with only one notion; That he loves him.

That he honestly, truly loves him.

Actually, two notions; That Luke loves him too.

_Beat that, Mcjones._

The biting wind snaps him back to reality, with Luke leading the way, and Waffle gleefully bouncing through the snow.

“Wait- We- Are we bringing Waffle?”

Waffle stops bounding through the snow to look at Dean, as if telling him “ _obviously.”_

“Of course! I'm not leaving him behind _again,_ ” Luke says, guilt overwhelming in his voice.

Dean couldn't argue with that. Not when Waffle looked so happy in the snow, and had that sad little whine locked and loaded, ready to go whenever.

Luke squeezes Dean's hand with an assuring smile, and so they continued.

It gets remarkably warmer as they continue, passing the line where two forests meet, ice melting and revealing beaches. Eventually, they come to a peak in the shoreline and Luke grins, taking back his hand and presenting the sight with a flourish.

“Ta-da!~”

Dean stares blankly at the excessive number of boats lining the shore, precariously untethered. Although, Dean supposes he shouldn't be surprised.

“What?” Luke interjects, breaking the silence. “It's the fleet!”

_The fleet. Right..._

“... It's great," Dean deadpans, smirking at Luke. Dean can't help but laugh at Luke's mock offense, watching him grumble as he made his way down the shore. However, Luke seems to get over the offense quickly, practically throwing himself into the nearest boat, Waffle jumping in after him.

“Well?” Luke smirks, waiting for Dean's next move, gesturing to the expanse of boats next to them. “Let's go. You got options.”

“What, we're not gonna share?” Dean asks, an eyebrow raised.

“Nope. This one's full,” Luke teases, reaching over to scratch Waffle’s ear. Dean rolls his eyes, picking the boat directly next to Luke, unable to keep glaring at Luke for more than a couple seconds. Dean reaches over to scratch Waffle’s ear, who was intently staring into the water. Although they were only a couple inches apart, it's enough to jolt Luke out of his petulant act, expecting Dean to fall.

Dean looks up at Luke expectantly, although he wasn't entirely sure what he even wanted. Luke clears his throat, attempting to get himself together, but the color in his cheeks and the laughter bubbling up in his chest are unable to be masked.

“Right. Let's go,” Luke says hastily, beginning to row away from the shore. Dean isn't entirely sure what direction they're supposed to be going in, but simply lets Luke lead the way.

Another thing Dean hadn't noticed before, the water is _super_ pretty. He has to tear his eyes away in order to keep up with Luke, but it feels like he could stare down forever, hypnotized. Admiring the way the waves move with the tide, the way the light dances on the surface, and simply the _depth_ of it all is something Dean had never really considered.

Not in a long time, anyway.

Although really, it wasn't all that long ago. Only a few seasons ago, when their goal laid in a temple at the bottom of the ocean. Back then, the four of them, downing potions that let them stay down for hours. Back then, when every time he slipped underwater felt like the first time, terrifying yet strangely fun in a way Dean had never quite been able to recapture.

Back then, they had fun, the four of them.

Himself, Jeff, Austin, and _h i m._

From back then, Dean can remember looking up at Mcjones from beneath the surface, how that stupid trench coat floated up, with golden hair framing his face like a halo. With muffled laughter and tiny bubbles escaping his lips, and one of those _especially_ rare carefree smiles as he got used to breathing underwater.

The memory feels tainted now, black ink spreading and smothering Dean's mind.

At least now, there's nothing else attached to the water. No mission, no expectations, no relation. Right now, it's just pretty.

So pretty, it's almost disappointing when the island appears on the horizon. But then again, it's another distraction, and Dean would really appreciate if his _stupid brain_ could stop dwelling on Mcjones.

Luke ‘docks’ on the shore first, and is kind enough to help Dean out of his boat, leading him up to the honestly minuscule island. Only second to Waffle, who bolts out of Luke's boat, eager to roll around in the sand, play in the water, and do whatever dogs do.

The island is somewhat charming. It’s utterly empty, nothing but sand and a single tree, but it's all Dean really needs. It has Luke, that's the important part.

Actually, it also has a sign, placed right in the middle, meaning the others have been here before. Dean had never really wondered where the others had gone when they left him at the house. They had talked about a jungle, a temple, some islands, but it had never really piqued his interest.

Until now, of course.

The sign read:

_This was our firs_

_t_

_island_

-And it's so obviously, ridiculously Austin that Dean doesn't even need to ask who made it. Dean laughs, and an arm wraps around his waist.

“So, what d'ya think?” Luke asks, his smile brighter and warmer than the blazing sun above them.

“... It'll do,” Dean jeers, leaning his head onto Luke's shoulder. Dean then points towards Waffle, who was catapulting himself back and forth at a somewhat concerning velocity, sand and salt already embedded in his fur. “I think Waffle likes it.”

Luke doesn't even know how to respond to that statement, blinking quickly and making a couple false starts. Eventually, he seems to decide that it isn't worth trying to understand.

“I- Whatever. There are other islands, you know, if you wanna keep exploring. Since this one's like, tiny.”

Dean considers it, but something compels him to stay. Although it's adorable to watch Luke vaguely gesture towards the horizon, pointing out where other islands _probably_ are, Dean decides he's had enough adventuring already. Dean isn't entirely sure why he's suddenly satisfied, but supposes it wasn't necessarily the island he was looking forward to.

And although Waffle being ridiculously adorable is a close second, it wasn't that either.

“Nah. It's perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had this whole week off of school bc of the weather hee hee
> 
> also next chapter is gonna be a doozy hoo boy... sorry in advance if it takes a while to come out
> 
> also also this is over 20k words now oh god oh fuck


	10. Nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of day one.

“Luke, what are you doing?”

Dean didn't get a response, the only sound being waves crashing against the shore, the crackles of the torches littered across the island, and a quiet rustle of blankets from inside the half finished house.

Dean rolls his eyes, not understanding why Luke was doing this. It was his idea to build this _stupid_ house, he was the one who always wanted to make things pretty, and they both know they only have three days in this world. And yet, mere minutes after nightfall, Luke stops dead in his tracks, silently vanishing into the half built structure.

It reminds Dean of a child. Maybe he was trying to scare him? _Would he? Or, no…_

Dean reluctantly enters the house, which is really nothing but walls, the inside unfinished and unfurnished. And yet, there Luke is, in the corner.

Dean didn't know Luke had brought the beds. He assumed they wouldn't be wasting any time.

“Luke.”

This time, Dean is met with a muffled groan, Luke flipping over to look at Dean. The groan turns into a soft chuckle, Luke lazily propping himself up on his elbow.

“Hi,” Luke replies sleepily, seemingly exaggerating his tiredness.

“Luke, come on. We need to finish this. You said it yourself, we only have three days,” Dean sighs, rubbing his temples.

“But I'm tired,” Luke whines, broken off by another yawn. “Come on, at least lay down with me for a little while.”

_You look tired._

Luke didn't say that, but Dean is sure that's what he's thinking. Dean knows he's right too, somewhere in the back of his mind that he tries to repress.

Before he could stop himself, Dean makes his way to the beds, shrugging off his armor as Luke squirms back towards the wall, making room for Dean. Dean lays down cautiously, staring up at the open ceiling, stars dotting the night sky. Even in the momentary silence without a distraction, Dean finds his thoughts already racing, selfish and cruel, filled to the brim with memories of _him._ Dean is too scared to even look at Luke, just in case he's _looking_ at him.

“You looked like you had a lot on your mind,” Luke murmurs, most of the sleepiness now absent from his voice. As Luke's arm falls over Dean's stomach and their hands meet, Dean has a feeling he's fallen for Luke's trap. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Dean risks a glance at Luke, finding him resting angelically, skin gleaming in the moonlight, just _watching_ Dean. Another swell of emotion floods Dean's mind, _unworthy, selfish, pathetic,_ and the light, salty air gets a lot heavier.

Dean forces a chuckle, hoping Luke can't see his face. Not that he really needs to.

“I thought we were gonna go to sleep,” Dean half-jokes, regretting the words from the moment they left his mouth. Luke shifts to be a bit closer to him, his head on Dean's shoulder, and Dean wonders if he's intentionally trapping him.

Not that he wants to leave. Dean just wants to _stop thinking._

“Eventually,” Luke mumbles, but it's overwhelmingly clear to Dean that he knows _exactly_ what he's doing. “But that’s usually easier if you talk first. If you want, you don't have to.”

Luke falls silent after that, being kind enough not to push it any further. Dean knows he's nowhere near sleeping, probably _staring_ at him, and instead maps the stars in his mind in an attempt to distract himself. He doesn't know many constellations, it's all mindless connect-the-dots to him, but it's better than the other thoughts that just _won't go away._

_Big dipper, over there. Or is it the little dipper? Is there a difference? Shit. There's, uh… What is that? Virgo? The scales one? Or, no, that's Libra, Virgo is like, supposed to be an angel or something._

_This isn't working. Fuck, uh… That one kind of looks like glasses. Fucked up and lopsided, but sure. And that one looks like a top hat…_

“I can't stop thinking about him,” Dean whispers, entirely without his brain’s consent.

Luke doesn't say anything, only nuzzling in closer, rubbing his thumb over Dean's hand, assuring that _he's here._ The sky is no longer a refuge for Dean, and it feels like he has no choice but to look at Luke. Still shining in the moonlight, a slight smile tugging at his lips, sympathetic, _understanding_. Dean wants to kiss him again, that was _so much easier._

“It's like… I just can't let go, I don't even know why. Everywhere I go, it's like he's _haunting_ me, I just wish I could stop thinking about him,” Dean rants, abandoning his composure. “I don't know why I can't just… Be here, with you. I want to forget, I want to stop caring about him and what he thinks, I just want to move on, but I can't.”

Memories are rushing back to Dean. A ship he could barely remember, hurtling through space. Blaring, discordant music, the low, dingy light just enough to enhance every one of _his_ expressions. A hand around his wrist, tight enough to bruise, but he couldn't feel it until months later, copied into the game. Shoving him away, slamming him directly into the counter. The bruises never quite faded. Dean _hates_ living like this, every supposedly meaningless mark on his skin never fading, always reminding him of what happened. He remembers anger, disgust, confusion, being called _pathetic_ , and Dean doesn't know why he can't _just tell him._

Regardless, Luke nods against Dean's chest, squeezing him a bit tighter.

“How does he make you feel?” Luke asks, low and cautious.

“Stupid.”

The word flies out of Dean's mouth without any thought, without needing any.

“Stupid, and… Obsessive, and dependent, and… Mostly just… dumb.”

Luke remains silent, an invitation to go on.

“He used to make me happy, when he actually paid attention to me. And wasn't insulting me. It was- It was just joking, back then, but… I don't know, it's like I don't even know him anymore. And I keep going back to the memories, but they're all just… sadder, now. The things he said, the mean stuff, I know they were supposed to be jokes, but now it's just like… I don’t know anymore. I don't know if I ever knew him.”

Luke is _still_ silent, clearly awake, but Dean isn't sure if he's even listening.

“I- I’m sorry, I'm rambling-”

“Don't stop,” Luke interrupts, much more intense than Dean expected. Luke seems to have surprised himself, dialing his words back to a whisper. “It’s okay to vent. I'm here.”

Dean takes a moment to process, finding his train of thought.

“You know the… repeat thing? Like, how this season has the same death order as season five?”

“Mhm?” Luke mumbles, somewhat half hearted. Or maybe Dean was projecting again. He couldn't tell, he couldn't _stop._

“It's… I don't know why it bothers me as much as it does, but the thing where you replace _him_ … It doesn't feel right. Like- I don't know what Todd did, if he...”

“You think… You think Todd did this?” Luke asks, squeezing Dean’s hand, once again so _agonizingly understanding,_ despite how poorly Dean described it. Dean shrugs. “No- No, he wouldn't. Don't doubt the way you feel _,_ I don't think Todd even cares. He wouldn't.”

“I- I know, but still, I just…” Dean hesitates, remembering to breathe, forcing down another storm brewing in his chest. “... You're nothing like him, I keep telling myself that, but I keep thinking, like… You're not his replacement, we never _were_ anything, and you don't just… exist in his shadow. You're so much more than that, but I feel like I can't… let myself have that. I know how I feel about you, I know that's real, but just… You know?”

Luke takes a moment to process the words, Dean’s own heartbeat almost deafeningly loud.

“... No. You're not wrong, or like, a _bad person_ for feeling the way you do. You're still healing, don't be so hard on yourself.”

The fact that Luke hadn't yelled at him or run away yet has to mean _something,_ right? Still caring about Mcjones isn't a problem for Luke, it never was. Luke is still here, holding him, trying to soothe him with his words. His words, _his stupid voice,_ low and melodic, somewhat sleepy, utterly adorable. It drives Dean _fucking wild._

“I- I know, but I just want to be done with it! It's over, I've had time, I have _you_ , and I'm still just… being an idiot, like this. I just want _you,_ away from everything else, because you deserve better, and I just…”

Luke stirs, and Dean almost panics, until he realizes Luke is just propping himself up next to him.

“Stop calling yourself stupid. You're not,” Luke says, soft and yet so strong, the intense sincerity written all over his face just barely visible in the moonlight. “And again, don't be so hard on yourself. Getting over stuff like this comes with time. So what if you still care about him, you're just... doing your best. It'll get better.”

Dean doesn't want to question how he knows that, or how he can just _understand_ so quickly, _why he still cares._

Dean doesn't say anything, but figures his face might have given it away. Confused, incredulous, happy, yet terrified. Dean sits up, contemplating making his escape before Luke mirrors him, rejoining their hands.

“Dean, all I ever wanted was you. You- When I was with you in the forest and you told me about _him,_ I just- I wished I could stay there with you, I just wanted to see you happy, because the Dean I know is kind, and- and strong, and so loud but weirdly endearing, and so _brave_ , and just _amazing_ , and… Maybe there's stuff, or, well- _Someone_ , getting in the way of that, but that's who I fell in love with. That's all I ever wanted, to help _him_ and love _him_ , no matter what.”

Luke's voice becomes slightly strained, every word dripping with sincerity. Dean throws his arms around his neck, feeling Luke _shaking,_ and is only able to hold himself together by a thread.

“I… Fuck, you make my confession sound weak as hell.” Dean laughs, trying desperately to lighten the mood before one of them bursts into tears. “But… thank you. It means a lot.”

Dean pulls away, and can’t help admiring Luke. The moonlight washes over him in an almost ethereal manner, every part of him seeming to shimmer like the ocean waves nearby, light dancing on his face gracefully and more beautifully than Dean could ever comprehend, let alone deserve. His eyes are like pools of starlight, wide and still struggling to come down from the edge of crying, his smile brighter than the sun.

Dean can’t help himself, cupping a hand to Luke’s cheek and chasing his light. His lips taste saltier than before, yet sweet, and they’re just as skilled in how they move against Dean’s own, just as _amazing_ as before. Luke laughs as Dean pulls away, his grin flustered and ridiculous, and Dean realizes he wasn’t exactly helping him calm down. Luke pulls Dean back in, wrapping his arms around Dean as he caught his breath.

“... So, just... promise me. You won't be so hard on yourself, and you'll give yourself time, okay? Doesn't matter what you think, you deserve it.”

Dean nods, not exactly a promise, but agreeing to at least try. How Luke saw Dean the way he did, as someone _worthy of loving_ was still a mystery to Dean, but his mind wasn't racing with questions like it used to be. Luke made a good argument, and the last thing Dean wanted was to let him down. Dean doubts he even could, emotionally or physically. Regardless, like everything else, it fades.

Maybe it's just what Luke does to him, that _intoxicating_ effect, his uncanny ability to get into Dean's head and make every other thought disappear. Or maybe Dean is finally getting somewhere, finally getting over Mcjones.

Or maybe he's just tired. That seems like the most likely culprit for his almost comatose state of mind, pulling Luke back down to the bed with him. Dean burrows his face into Luke's neck, pressing a soft kiss to his throat, so quick Luke almost missed it. That same soft, angelic laughter rises from Luke's chest, tugging the blankets closer to them and reaching an arm over Dean's waist.

Dean didn't tell him he was tired, didn't ask if they should go to sleep. Luke simply knew. Dean would have asked how, if not for how numbing the sensation of being so close to him was, how warm and soft, how utterly _Luke_. Luke as an adjective, Dean isn't sure if he can really describe it. Warm, soft, angelic, amazing, all synonyms, but not quite as encapsulating as simply _Luke._ The dilemma fades from Dean's mind, the sound of waves crashing and Luke's breathing lulling him to sleep, Luke being the only thing on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this didn't take as long as I thought it would!!  
> also not quite as bad as I thought it would be but that's okay... it's coming :)


	11. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> auugh this one is shorter and it took me forever since I rewrote the whole second half but I guess it be like that. sorry for the wait, hopefully ill be faster with the next couple chapters? im excited for those skgsgks
> 
> also here have a playlist https://open.spotify.com/user/criuyyuihbthh3wmnsu5462od/playlist/6KhXQvgaJ1izkQy0BxiyGb?si=udkJEAjxSsyoWdeypMncfQ  
> ill probably add more to it, it will probably be more mitski and I will never apologize
> 
> oh fuck forgot to add this was going to be more but I split it up because fuck work... and sub to yungtown he is back and about to ruin my life

The light is the first thing Dean notices.

Pure light, white and blinding.

Music fills the air, violins harmonizing with piano, accompanied by a soft hum from the next room over. This isn't anywhere Dean has been before, with massive windows showing nothing but pure white and almost minimalistic décor, but it feels like _home._ There's no other explanation, other than that it simply is.

Dean looks down at himself, finding black with accents of silver, a purple scarf hanging loosely around his neck. He feels a slight pang in his chest, but it's unclear from what, exactly. _Nostalgia?_ The memories that come with the attire, or maybe just the subconscious fact that he knows this isn't real. Or maybe, something else entirely that he doesn't know about yet. _Who knows._

The brief moment of awareness ends, and Dean is pulled to the next room like a magnet, following the music, and now the smell of something... baking? Cookies, maybe?

Of course, the room turns out to be a kitchen, just as blindingly white as the room he began in, only a marble counter separating him from Luke.

_Luke_. Smiling, humming, his expression even brighter than the light from the windows, or anything in this place, for that matter.

Another pang, this time stealing a bit of his breath. _Is he dead?_ He didn't think Heaven existed, in or out of the game, but this certainly seems like an apt description. He already knew Luke was an angel, the literal translation of that was only a step away.

Regardless, Luke is an instant cure for his worrying, admiring the purple apron he was wearing, the adorable matching oven mitts he was using to hold the pan in his hands. And yes, it's cookies.

“Took you long enough.”

Dean still isn't sure what that meant, but before he had time to contemplate it, Luke sets down the pan and approaches him. An arm wraps around Dean's waist, a mischievous smile gracing Luke's lips, and then they're _dancing,_ music swelling as a choir joins the song.

Dean briefly wonders if he knows the song. It seems familiar, but maybe it's just something he made up. Most likely an amalgamation of half-forgotten melodies, but they get the job done.

There's no time to contemplate that. His eyes lock on to Luke's, his hand on Luke's shoulder as the floor opens up, letting Luke lead the way and twirl him to his heart's content.

This goes on for a long time. No precise unit of time, but eventually, Dean finds himself staring at Luke's face instead of focusing on dancing. Luke stares back, his smile becoming sweeter than sugarcane, brighter than the sun.

That's when water pools at their feet.

Maybe it was there before and neither of them had noticed it, but Dean can now feel it rising, soaking into his socks.

Or, no, he isn't wearing socks. _What am I wearing?_ Bare feet, electric blue dress pants, the same suit he was now uncomfortably used to.

The scarf is still here, he almost didn't notice it. It's tied around his wrist, light enough to barely be there, so long it should have been a tripping hazard. As the water rises, a corner dips into it, and he watches the water spread through the fabric.

Dean looks back at Luke incredulously, hoping for any type of answers. He's wearing something different now too, all too familiar black robes draped over his body, dipping into the water. Being that this was heaven, or a dream, and only a fantasy version of Luke, Dean wasn't expecting him to look _scared._ Well, maybe not scared, but nervous, his hands shaking, unable to decide whether to stare at the water or Dean.

The water is up to their knees now. There are no walls, nothing to climb, and no sense of where the water is coming from. Dean takes back his hand from Luke's shoulder and wipes his cheek. _Nope, nothing there._

The water keeps rising, and Luke keeps smiling, although he looks like he's on the brink of panicking. Once it was up to Dean's waist, Luke finally commits to looking at Dean. Dean wasn't sure if he actually said anything, or if he simply _knew._

_Breathe._

Dean inhales, attempts at deep breaths only coming out as gasps. The water rises relentlessly, and he can't seem to calm down. His lungs seem to reject the air, too heavy and thick to be breathable. Still, _what else is he supposed to do…?_

Dean looks back at Luke, locking eyes with him, and a part of him is calmed. Luke swallows nervously, pulling Dean closer, so that they're chest to chest.

Is the water rising faster now? _Probably_. But now, it's up to his neck, and Dean still has no idea what to do.

Dean supposes there was nothing he was supposed to do. There was nothing he physically could do, really. Before he knew it, they were both underwater, floating, clinging to Luke like he might lose him. The water seems to stretch out infinitely in all directions, so there was no sense of where the surface is, if there even was one.

And suddenly, Dean could breathe just fine.

It's a strange sensation, but not entirely unfamiliar, water filling his lungs and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Overwhelming yet calming, being surrounded, held, caressed. Dean claws at the fabric floating around Luke, feeling how it glides through the water in response to his touch, opening his eyes and drinking in the way the shimmering blue light paints Luke.

It's only at this moment that Dean realizes he should be drowning. _Luke_ should be drowning. Dean nearly panics, until he feels Luke's chest moving under his fingers, hears his muffled laughter and sees the relieved smile on his face.

Dean briefly wonders how Luke can be so captivating, so intoxicating, so immaculate that simply watching him _breathe_ is the most enthralling thing he's done in a long time.

Although, that title seems like it's about to be overthrown, as Dean locks eyes with Luke once more, feeling his grip tightening, being pulled in-

Only to a crushing pressure on his chest.

Dean opens his eyes to blinding sunlight, a sharp pain in his chest, and a deafening roar of sound fading into desperate whines for attention. Of course, they come from Waffle, who happens to be putting his entire weight onto Dean's ribs.

In a moment of panic, Dean practically throws Waffle off of him, but doesn't take long to recognize his mistake.

“Wh- Oh my God, I'm so sorry!” Dean almost shouts, his barely awake voice nearly giving out. It takes him a moment to adjust to the light, rubbing his eyes and blindly searching the ground for his glasses. Luckily, Waffle doesn't seem to mind being launched, just happy to have woken him up. He rejoins them on the bed, just not standing directly on top of either of them.

…

_Oh God._

_Them._

Dean wipes the sand from his glasses and still finds it difficult to comprehend what he's seeing. Luke, somehow still sleeping like a rock. A slight grumble forms deep in his throat from the disturbance, but he's nowhere near consciousness, his face angelic, peaceful, _so damn addicting._

It takes Dean an even longer moment to remember what had just happened. Luke had lured him into bed, got him to get some stuff off of his chest about Mcjones, and Dean got to _kiss him_ again. Dean can't help but smile, barely refraining from bursting into laughter over the absurdity of the fact that they had just _slept together._ Dean never had any real expectations for this little excursion, but this definitely wasn't one of them.

He wouldn't change it for the world.

Although, he supposes he should make Luke get up. Then again, Waffle seems willing to do his job for him, worming into the space between them and attempting to lick Luke awake. It's remarkable exactly how long Luke holds out, groaning and trying to bury himself under the covers. Dean feels little sympathy, but is once again struck by the question of _who's cuter_? The answer still evades him.

“Mmph- Oh my God, Dean, help-” Luke mumbles, the closest thing to a coherent sentence yet. Dean ignores his plea, running his hands through Waffle's thick fur and doing the exact opposite of defusing the situation.

“Gotta get up, sleeping beauty.”

The nickname comes easily, almost startlingly natural the longer he thinks about it. Luke simply groans, futilely tries to push Waffle away, but eventually concedes.

Luke sits up, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes in the moments Waffle isn't demanding his full attention. Luke sighs, smiling at Waffle's blissful state, tongue hanging out and panting.

“Couldn't have… I don't know, found a _gentler_ way to wake me up?” Luke asks, still struggling to completely find his voice.

“Uh- No, he fucking stepped on me! I have no idea how that didn't wake you up,” Dean replies, glaring at Waffle as he continued petting him. Maybe Waffle could understand the distress in Dean’s voice, but he absolutely did not care.

“He stepped on you?” Luke asks, concern thinly veiling his amusement. “I- I don't know, I'm a heavy sleeper. But bad dog,” Luke scolds in the least scolding tone possible, almost like a babying compliment.

Eventually, Waffle gets bored, standing up, shaking off the affection, and trotting back outside. With their one distraction gone, they have no choice but to get up.

Not without kissing him first, of course. Luke has no right looking _this good_ first thing in the morning.

Or in general, really. 


	12. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's been something on Luke's mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> auugh sorry for the wait,, I restarted this 3 times but shes 3.5k words and shes finally here. this is epic  
> I think this is gonna end up being 30k words which is wild... either one or two more chapters depends if I decide to split it up and then the epilogue but oh god we're almost there  
> again thanks for reading holy fuck

“Can I ask you something… personal, I guess?”

Luke's voice startles Dean out of his trance like state, his head on Luke's shoulder, staring out over the ocean. Their backs are to the recently finished house, meticulously detailed by Luke, so much so that Dean had to physically force him to stop. Regardless of Luke's obsession, it was certainly well made, slabs, stairs, and fences decorating the walls, the inside so ridiculously comfortable and home-y it made Dean's heart ache. It almost felt like a waste, that they would only know it for just over a day, and then it would disappear, along with the rest of the world.

Knowing Luke would be fixing and detailing forever if he didn't stop him, Dean had to drag him out of the house, and the furthest away they could go was in the water.

Another little thing that's different about this world, and certainly different from his dream, the water. The physics of it are another thing entirely, being infinite and all that, but the main thing Dean notices is a certain gentleness about it. The waves are calm and constant regardless of the weather. Holding his breath isn't much of a concern either, air simply escapes him as if on a timer. He isn't sure if that makes drowning easier or harder. It still hurts, of course, but it doesn't freak him out like it might have before. Perhaps most strangely, it doesn't soak into their clothes, meaning Dean hadn't noticed how far out they had wandered until Luke pointed it out to him. It surrounds them passively, a caress, nothing like the heavy pressure somewhere deep in his mind had expected.

Dean doesn't remember when or where he would have experienced anything other than this. It feels somewhat off, yet comforting to know that few of his past, vague fears still applied. Just because it's different doesn't make it bad, and Luke certainly took advantage of it.

Luke had called it “trying to be romantic,” when he had frequently tried to pull Dean down beneath the surface with him. From very unconvincingly pretending to drown, to very ineffectively trying to sneak up on Dean, to simply clinging to him and weighing him down; This was the first time Luke had really taken the lead in being affectionate, and he was _damn stubborn._ Not entirely without purpose. When Luke had finally succeeded, Dean couldn't deny it was adorable, and he relishes every moment he gets to kiss Luke.

Still, it was suspiciously mermaid-ish, and although Dean could admit to himself that he liked it, he still felt it was better described as “trying to drown him.”

And somehow, they ended up here on the shore. Hardly exhausted, but content in doing nothing, tangled up in each other and simply admiring the scene. Here, with Waffle occasionally visiting for attention, then happily trotting off again, only adding to the idyllic, almost heavenly atmosphere. Here, nearly falling asleep on Luke's shoulder, more relaxed than he can remember _ever_ being.

“Shoot,” Dean curtly replies, not bothering to take his eyes off of the sun beginning to set. Luke sighs, slightly adjusting his hold on Dean, and Dean wonders if he should be worried.

“So, I meant to ask this last night, but I kinda… lost it, a little bit, and you were already asleep by the time I thought to ask.”

Dean wouldn't call Luke's confession ‘losing it.’ Sure, it was emotional, but Dean had never even _considered_ that it might be out of line.

“So, uh… I was thinking about it for a while, actually, so sorry if I seemed out of it at all, while we've been here-”

“Luke, you're fine. Just spit it out.”

Luke takes a moment to recover from Dean's blunt statement, swallowing harshly, seeming to struggle in catching his breath. Dean has no idea what Luke is trying to say, if he should be worried and for who.

“Uh- Right. So, I was just… thinking.”

Luke's voice wavers, as if he was already choked up about whatever he was thinking about. Dean figures all he can do is listen, and simply be there.

“You remember the first time we really talked, like, alone? When you told me about Mcjones. In the forest?”

Dean hums in affirmation, hesitant to interrupt again.

“Yeah. Back then, you told me that… It was your fault he left.”

Luke pauses, as if he had forgotten what he was going to ask, or he was still mustering up the strength to say it. In the absence of sound, Dean pays close attention to Luke's body, how his hands twitch and how hard his heart pounds in his chest. How his own introspection seems to make him flinch, how he holds his breath as if he thought Dean couldn't tell. Dean definitely could, and in a strange, intense, irrational way, it scares him.

“So, I was going to ask if you still… believed that.”

Luke sighs, relieved at finally spitting it out, but now there's nothing keeping him from fixating on Dean, and his contemplative silence.

“I…” Dean mutters, without having anything anywhere near an answer yet. His eyes focus back on the sunset, finally beginning to dip below the horizon, and the sight fills him with an odd sense of courage. "… Did I ever tell you what actually happened between us?”

“Not… specifically,” Luke concedes, clearly still hesitant about prying into Dean's past. At this point, Dean couldn't care less, as long as it helps him finally _get over it._

“Well… Uh…”

Luke's hand brushes down Dean's arm, past the concealed bruises on his wrist to entwine their fingers. It stings a bit, but not nearly as much as the memory itself.

Somehow, after all this time, Luke still has that calming, empowering effect on Dean. It practically forces Dean to open up, makes him _want_ to, and Dean clings to both the feeling and Luke's body itself like a lifeline. Dean takes a deep breath, and words bubble up from his chest before he even gets the chance to distract himself again.

“You were… Yeah, it was right after season six, so you were on Starbound by then. So right after six I was talking to him, about the season and how I missed him, and he was just… kind of cold, but I guess that's normal. And I thought I might have done something, so I was trying to like, cheer him up and I said there was always next season. And then he told me he was gonna take a break, just for the next season.”

Dean hadn't thought much of that little remark before, he had been too scared to rethink it. But now, it makes Dean's heart sink.

“And I was like ‘dude, I'll go with you,’ and he didn't really… want me to, but he couldn't really stop me.”

That part makes Dean smile, his own childlike insistence, Mcjones’ loving exasperation.

That's how he saw it back then, anyway. It didn't seem quite as loving anymore.

“And we just got on a ship, it was touring a couple neighboring sectors, and it was… It was nice. I haven't really travelled that much since finding this place, ‘cause I didn't wanna get lost again, but I kinda missed it. Big universe, y'know?”

Luke hums, and doesn't interrupt any further than that. Dean can't imagine the thoughts and the questions that must be racing through Luke's mind, but nevertheless, Luke lets him continue.

“It was- Uh… Darker than I remembered it, but it was nice. But there really wasn't much to do other than look, and it was cramped and kinda freaking me out, so… I think we were both drunk? It might have been just me, I don't really remember. But I… _fuck_.”

Dean shakes his head, trying to remember, and this seems to be the one time the details escape him.

“I think it was just me. And I… I don't even remember what I said in particular, probably something stupid. Something about me loving him, and he just… froze.”

Dean feels his heart aching again. His bruises seem to pulse rhythmically to the sound of his own heartbeat, and tears sting at his eyes. He blinks them back, ignores the pain, and tells himself _no, not yet._

“He… He called me pathetic, I remember that, and stupid, and… And that I didn't know what I was saying. He was trying to get me to come to my senses, I guess…”

Luke's fingers stay entwined in Dean's own, but come dangerously close to brushing over his bruises, and Dean contemplates if he should even tell him. He had never worried that Luke might get angry or do something _bad_ before, he never seemed the type, but now the idea is in Dean's head and he can't get it _out._

And yet, Dean's hands are occupied, so nothing can stop the laments pouring out of his mouth.

“And he, uh, slammed me into a table. That wasn't great. And he just… I kinda just lost him in the crowd, after that. He said… not to try to stop him.”

Dean's breath hitches in his throat, and for a moment, he panics, thinking he can't breathe. The details rush back to him now, the suffocating metallic scent that flooded the entire ship, the way the liquor felt grainy and sour slipping down his throat, how his vision swam and certainly wasn't helped by the bright lights and the people crowding around them. How Mcjones grabbed his wrist, pinned it to the table, and dug his nails into the flesh. How in a confused, drunken stupor, Dean was completely lost as to if Mcjones was consciously trying to hurt him.

“He hurt you?” Luke asks, barely above a whisper, seeming to struggle for air just as much as Dean.

“He- He said if he could forget what I said, he would, but he couldn't-”

“Dean,” Luke interrupts, shifting to look Dean in the eyes, his hold on Dean now a little too hard to be comfortable. “Did he hurt you?”

Dean can't stand to meet his gaze, the act of holding back tears only getting harder. How is he even supposed to answer that question? Mentally, obviously, they both knew that by now. Physically, well… Yeah, but did that really matter? He could get his bruises fixed sometime, if he ever builds up the strength to leave the lobby again, and they aren't even that bad. What answer does Luke _want?_

“It's not… I mean…”

Dean meets Luke's eyes, mostly by accident, and finds them drenched in worry and _shining_. Now isn't the time to think about how pretty Luke is again, but _God,_ Luke makes that hard for him. Dean can't find any of the anger or malice towards Mcjones he had expected, or even towards himself. Dean feels desperate to distract himself, but no way in hell would Luke let him.

Wordlessly, Dean takes back the arm wrapped around Luke's waist and undoes the button on the collar of his sleeve. Luke still chases the touch, not wanting to risk letting Dean get away, but he watches with wide eyes as Dean reveals the bruises around his wrist. They're light, barely darker than the untouched skin around them, but they sting from the friction of tugging down the fabric around them.

“They're not that bad,” Dean assures, trying his hardest to look happy and unfazed. The look Luke gives him implies that it isn't convincing. “I have a couple on my hip too, but they're really not that bad. Not exactly the highlight of the whole… affair. They didn't hurt until they carried over into this world, and I can just go get them fixed.”

Dean meets Luke's eyes again, and Luke seems to take pity, not pushing the issue any further. He falls silent, making room for Dean to glance back at the setting sun, soon to be swallowed up by the sea. Sunlight grows more and more scarce, the torches soon to become the only source of light. Dean mourns that soon, he won't be able to admire Luke in the same way until morning, because the sunlight does something to Luke that Dean can’t quite describe. Dean gets lost in his eyes, taking in sapphire waves and outlines of silver, how even in the low light, his entire face seems to glow.

Impulsively, Dean juts forward, pressing their lips together. Luke easily relaxes into it, his hand cupping Dean's cheek, but Dean can’t shake his uneasiness. Dean pulls away and licks his lips, tasting sugar and salt and _everything_ Luke, but feels unworthy.

“So, to, uh… Answer my question from before. Do you still think it was your fault he left? ‘Cause from the way you described it, I don't think it was.”

A pit forms in Dean's stomach, and he can feel his own heart beating through his chest.

“I…”

“Okay, think of it this way,” Luke quickly interrupts, his hand slipping down from Dean's face to his shoulder. There's a certain intensity in his words, an urgency, but still gentle, absurdly kind. “You don't know what was going through his head, what he could've been planning before or after you said what you said. Maybe he was going to leave anyway, there's no way to know unless he comes back and lays it all out himself.”

Even the concept of Mcjones coming back makes Dean shiver, panic seizing his chest. Luke notices, and comes in closer to compensate, wrapping his arms around Dean. Dean releases a shaky sigh, completely relaxing into Luke’s hold, letting himself cling to Luke like he needed it to survive, entirely without guilt.

“So what I'm trying to say is… You can't blame yourself for that. Even if you were some kind of catalyst for him deciding to leave for good, there’s no way to know for sure, so you can't keep… hurting yourself, thinking like this. At the end of the day, it's his loss.”

Luke chuckles at the end of that sentence, his hands struggling to find one place to rest on Dean’s body, eventually deciding on leaving one at his waist, the other running through Dean’s hair. Dean leans back just enough for Luke to see the slightly melancholy, yet grateful smile on his face, and Luke reciprocates it.

“So, stop saying, or, well, thinking that it was your fault, ‘cause it wasn’t. You can’t keep being so hard on yourself. You just need to… let go.”

Somewhere, deep inside of himself, Dean feels something _breaking._ Or is it healing? He can’t tell, but all he knows is that he's struggling to breathe again, blinking back tears and clinging to Luke for comfort.

"… Fuck, you’re gonna make me cry again," Dean stammers, caught somewhere between laughter and bursting into tears, clutching the fabric of Luke's coat.

“It’s okay, if you have to,” Luke assures, his caress remaining constant, his hand brushing through Dean's hair making him feel like he was in heaven.

A couple tears fall, but they’re short lived, nothing but a salty remnant of a memory that didn’t matter anymore. It feels almost silly, yet freeing in the way Dean knows (or at least hopes) that this will be the last time he cries over Mcjones. Mcjones doesn’t deserve his tears, has no right still impacting Dean like he does, but Dean is slowly getting over him. Better late than never, and Luke is nothing if not patient, holding and consoling Dean as he hiccuped through his sobs, eventually catching his breath.

"… Thank you.”

Dean pulls away slightly, wiping away his tears, and finds himself lost in admiration. Luke is now entirely illuminated by fire from the torches and moonlight, smiling sweetly, a sense of honest happiness and accomplishment in his eyes.

“Dude, no problem,” Luke giggles like a child, and plants a hand on Dean’s face, as if to wipe away a remnant of his tears that Dean had missed. He doesn’t, his hand simply lingers instead, his thumb settling just below Dean’s jaw and tipping his head upwards.

Then, Luke presses his lips to Dean’s, short and sickeningly sweet. All of Dean’s other thoughts, along with the pain and the memories simply melt. This effect Luke has on him, both the conscious and unconscious things he does to him; Dean contemplates it, and decides that it’s probably just called _being in love._

Without warning, Luke lays down fully on the sand, inviting Dean to join him. Dean snuggles back into Luke's side, and his eyes have nowhere to go but the sky.

The stars seem brighter tonight, and Dean isn't sure why. Maybe it's because his head is finally cleared, able to simply enjoy them for what they are. Maybe there are less clouds than there were before, although he can't remember there ever being _any._ Maybe he's just projecting again.

Whatever the reason, they're beautiful.

"… What was it like in Starbound?” Dean asks, never taking his eyes off the stars. Luke takes a moment to process, then lets out a quiet chuckle. Dean can practically feel the smile on Luke's face.

“It was beautiful,” Luke responds, low and husky. “I dunno’ how well it translated with the cameras, but… I've never seen anything like it.”

“Better than the actual universe?” Dean asks, only half-joking.

“I- I wouldn't say better,” Luke stammers, sounding a lot less confident. “But prettier. And smaller. And I was a bird, so that was cool.”

Dean turns to look at Luke, and finds his gaze up at the stars almost mournful. He's smiling, but it's clear that there's something else on his mind.

As if he could feel Dean's stare, he turns to meet his gaze.

“Maybe I could sort something out with Todd, or if there's another season-”

“You don't need to keep taking it to Todd. You've already done enough.”

“But I wanna see it again,” Luke whines, petulant, yet totally honest. “With you.”

Dean takes a moment to process that, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"… That does sound nice.”

For a split second, Dean is overwhelmed with emotion. The sheer impact of loving Luke, of admiring the stars, of talking to him and holding him close, it all registers at once.

Then, it registers that this is going to end soon. One last day after this, and Dean has no idea what comes after that.

"… Are you gonna stay for next season?” Dean asks, trying not to show the sudden flood of emotion in his voice or on his face.

"… Don't know yet. If I can, I will.”

_Of course._ Dean didn't really know what he expected. He wanted a yes, but surely Luke has other places to be.

“If I can't, you're more than welcome to come with me.”

Travelling with Luke is a frightening idea to say the least, after all they've just discussed.

“I mean- If you want. I should probably check in back there, it's called Irsa-Serin. It's like- an ocean planet, but it's more like a really big bar, entertainment and stuff. And they let me in since I sing there, so I could probably smuggle you in.”

Getting to hear Luke sing without going through the trouble of asking was certainly an enticing concept.

“So, y'know. It's pretty far, I'm not sure if I'd make it back in time for the season, but… Do you ever think this place is exhausting? On the actual seasons, I mean.”

Dean doesn't really respond, giving a barely noticeable shrug.

“You're probably more used to it than I am. But if you need a break, I'd love to see you there. And I have my own ship, so you don't gotta worry about losing me or getting off track, it's kinda cluttered, but-”

“We'll see,” Dean cuts off Luke's rambling by curling into him, pressing a quick kiss to Luke's cheek. “I'd love to, but… I don't know. We'll see.”

Dean can tell Luke is smiling without having to look, from the way his arms wrap around Dean to how he breathes a sigh of relief at the acceptance of his proposal, followed by soft laughter. Curled into Luke, Dean can’t see the stars anymore, but he doesn't mind their replacement.

“I love you,” Luke murmurs, and Dean doubts he'll ever get used to hearing Luke say it the way he does. Low, soft, and above all, sincere.

“I love you too.”

…

…

…

“Did you wanna go back to bed, at some point…?” Dean asks sleepily, his eyes half closed.

“Nah. I like it here.”

“We're just gonna be all sandy, forever.”

“Yep.”

At least partially satisfied, Dean closes his eyes.


	13. Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mornings are consistent, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this feels shorter than it is... f

Dean opens his eyes slowly, his surroundings much too bright to be normal. His first impulse is to curl on himself, anything to shield himself from the light, but his movement is cut off by the presence next to him.

Slowly, his senses return to him. _Of course._

They had fallen asleep, but not inside the house, not on their bed. They're still outside, on the beach, and had managed to fall asleep while tangled up in each other. The entire night, even, the sand is surprisingly comfortable. But now, the blinding sun is torturous, and Dean squeezes his eyes shut tight as he curls into Luke's shoulder, ignoring the resistance Luke unconsciously puts up.

_Seriously, how is Luke still asleep?_ This isn't even the first time, being an impossibly heavy sleeper must just be another “Luke thing” for Dean to add to the list.

Dean supposes he's going to have to get used to waking Luke up, but he still feels guilty. Luke looks positively angelic, peaceful, completely content. A low grunt escapes his throat from the disturbance, but he isn't anywhere closer to waking up, a sleepy, lopsided smile still plastered on his face.

Dean never thought watching someone sleep would bring him this much happiness, but it's much too early to be thinking about that now. He can barely focus enough to see exactly where the sun is in the sky. It's early, that's all he knows, and his _stupid, sleepy husband_ needs to _wake the fuck up._

…

_… Husband?_

It's too early to be thinking about this right now, but the name has an irresistible ring to it, one that he knows would drive the others crazy if he ever used it out loud. Come to think of it, _is this a honeymoon?_

Dean shakes the thought out of his mind, wrestling his way out of Luke's arms, idly searching for his glasses. Luke unconsciously protests the disturbance, releasing another one of those sleepy, bear-like grumbles. Once he finds them, he takes another look at Luke, and knows it's going to be difficult to wake him up. _Where's Waffle when you really need him?_

“Luke, baby. Wake up. You still alive?” Dean asks while shaking him, unnecessarily loud, unthinkingly sappy. Dean briefly wonders what it is about mornings that makes him so obsessed with the pet names, but he doesn't have much time to think before Luke stirs.

“What…?” Luke mumbles, his eyes slowly peering open, just as adverse to the light as Dean was. Dean can practically see the gears turning in Luke's head, finding his surroundings, realizing he wasn't holding onto Dean anymore, struggling to sit up and join him. Luke groans almost the entire time, his first impulse being to chase Dean's touch and use it to shield himself from the sun.

“There we go. Good morning,” Dean chuckles as Luke leans into his shoulder, barely awake.

“Mmph... Where’s Waffle?” Luke mutters, clearly still mostly asleep.

“Uh…” Dean strains to look over Luke towards the house, indulging Luke’s question. “Probably napping inside.”

“Mmm… Okay…” Luke sighs, completely leaning into Dean and closing his eyes again. As if Dean couldn't tell _exactly_ what he's doing.

“Mm- Nope. Not doing that. Wake up,” Dean chirps, wriggling his way out of Luke's arms again, regardless of how much it pains him to see the saddened, betrayed look in Luke's eyes, _those stupid, pretty, puppy-dog-_

_No. Stop it. Gotta get up._

Luke whines, a stark contrast to his low, almost primal grumbles from before, a clue that Dean was finally getting somewhere.

Dean kneels from a safe distance away, watching Luke come to his senses.

“You sleep well?”

Luke finally settles, sitting with his legs propped up and spread apart, rubbing his eyes.

“I mean, yeah. Took me awhile to fall asleep, though,” Luke mutters, making his first real eye contact with Dean of the day. He seems to have quickly gotten over the "betrayal," albeit still a bit sleepy, smiling innocently. _God,_ Dean doesn't even have time to unpack all of the motives and meanings behind that smile, all of the things wrong with it, all of the things absolutely right.

The one thing Dean does know for sure is that it drives him _absolutely crazy._

_What about this isn't crazy?_

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, unthinkingly making the decision that it's safe enough to come close to Luke again. Dean scoots in between his legs, and Luke grabs his hips, pulling him in closer. Dean sighs, eyelids fluttering from the contact, holding onto Luke for dear life. Briefly, Dean thinks he must look _desperate._

Dean doesn't really mind. _It's not wrong._

“Uh- I don't really know why. It happened the night before, too. I just- I don't know. Too enamored to sleep?” Luke ponders, smiling far too sweetly for the way he was holding Dean.

Everything about Luke was just _too sweet_. Too sweet, too innocent, too adorable, but not _too much_ in any respect. Just enough, just what Dean needs.

“Is that why you're always this sleepy in the morning?” Dean asks, already knowing the answer. Luke hums in affirmation, taking back a hand from Dean's waist and running it through Dean's hair, getting rid of some of the sand and moving a strand away from Dean's face in one simple motion.

Actually, maybe this was _too much._ Luke was too pretty, too _close_ , and Dean feels like he's going to do _something_ if he doesn't distract himself. Although, he isn't sure what that something is. _Self-destruct, maybe?_

“What, were you just looking at me the whole time?” Dean asks, realizing immediately upon saying it that it didn't come off as joking as he intended. The smile drops off of Luke's face, looking away in what must have been embarrassment.

“I mean… I know that sounds kind of creepy-”

“I was kidding, Luke. It's okay,” Dean says with more intensity than he was expecting from himself, even knowing how he often spoke. Luke is practically forced to look back at Dean, the look in his eyes just… _So much._ Swirls of grey and blue blending into each other, dripping with nervousness and sincerity, apologetic without real reason. “It's not like you can help it. It's not creepy.”

Dean never claimed to have a way with words, especially not compared to Luke, but at least they seem to succeed in calming him.

“I, uh… I don't know, maybe you shouldn't be so pretty when you're asleep?” Luke chides, his voice slightly shaky. “But… yeah. You and the stars, and I was just thinking…”

_Here we go again._

Luke's hand finds its way to Dean's face, cupping his cheek and caressing him with his thumb. Dean can't find the will to protest, let alone the words.

“Looking up at the stars with you next to me, I was just thinking about what you said, just how big the universe is. And, y'know, I guess I think about love and destiny and stuff a lot. So for the longest time, I didn't think that true love, or soulmates, or whatever you wanna call it existed. Because how am I supposed to find them? And it just turns out that… Everything I needed was right in front of me, all this time. And I just had no idea. Not until you really reached out to me.”

Dean sighs, and supposes he's finally gotten to the point where he can process Luke's words immediately. They're still slightly nervous, lacking the usual relaxed smoothness his voice usually carried, but Dean didn't mind the change. This flustered, sugary sweet side of Luke seems reserved just for Dean, and he wouldn't trade it for anything. There's still a natural rhythm to his words, despite their slightly rushed nature, lapping at the edges of his consciousness like waves in a pool. A somewhat dull sensation, calming and serene, surrounding him.

Dean chuckles, partially at himself, and leans in so their foreheads are touching.

“Little too early for that.”

Luke doesn't get the chance to respond. Dean kisses him deeply, shutting him up, and Luke has no qualms about it. Dean fleetingly wonders if kissing Luke would have woken him up faster, setting the thought aside as something he could test later. Right now, Dean is enveloped in sugar and salt, cinnamon and rosemary, _everything_ Luke, and Dean can't imagine this _ever_ getting old.

Dean pulls away to catch his breath, and simply collapses onto Luke's shoulder, euphoric. Wrapped in Luke's warmth, Dean almost forgets the situation they're in, why he was trying so hard to get Luke to wake up in the first place.

At least Luke seems to realize on his own, sighing and squeezing Dean slightly tighter.

“Is there something in particular you wanted to do…?” Luke asks, his hands never finding one place to stay, restlessly exploring Dean's back and running through his hair.

“Um…” Dean hadn't really thought this through, not beyond wanting Luke to be awake for their last day here. Even now, his conscious train of thought seems to lag behind what his heart already knows it wants. Still, the heart speaks without permission.

“I… I kinda wanted to go back to the old house. Just to say goodbye to it.”

“Oh… Sure, we can do that,” Luke responds after a slight pause. Dean doesn't blame him for his hesitance, he barely even knows what he wants for himself.

“Actually, how much time do we have?”

“Til’ next sunrise. We got time.”

“Okay, good. ‘Cause I don't wanna move yet.”

Luke didn't speak, didn't call Dean out for being a hypocrite, simply sighed dreamily and held him closer.

Dean knows that neither of them are ready to leave. Now isn't exactly the best time to figure that out, but he doubts either of them ever will be. This place, with all of its little flaws and opportunities for pain, was paradise for them.

One last day, one last night, and then it all disappears.

Although, Dean supposes, this place has never been paradise before, even with all of his friends and the seasons he's won. It's always been slightly off, it still is, even with Luke by his side. Part of him wishes they could stay here, maybe forever, but another part of him knows that maybe, this doesn't have to end.

This world will, everything they've built here will, but not them. Not this feeling.

Maybe Luke is his paradise.

And so, he savors this moment.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok. im massive stupid and im splitting this up so. next chapter last chapter im like. 90% sure. and im not even sure if im gonna write an epilogue it might just be a companion piece instead? my head is huge


	14. Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to go home, if you can even call it that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my head is huge im so sorry  
> this was supposed to be the last chapter but its already almost 3k and im not even at the exciting part yet so fuck it im splitting it up. next chapter last chapter for real and I don't think im gonna do an epilogue but I cant trust myself to really stick with that decision so. we'll see
> 
> also plugging my playlist again bc I added a lot to it  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/criuyyuihbthh3wmnsu5462od/playlist/6KhXQvgaJ1izkQy0BxiyGb?si=OMQf6YgQQQOrHbkB1bgLbA

“Dean?”

****

Luke's voice pulls Dean out of his reverie, staring out over the water from the roof of their house. The bright, midday sun reflecting on the slow moving waves is hypnotizing, leaving Dean to daydream about domesticity and a couple other things he was a little too embarrassed to admit right now.

****

“Oh- Yeah?”

****

Luke sits down next to him, resting his head on Dean's shoulder as if he was already exhausted. Waffle joins shortly after him, wary of the ledge but prioritizing Luke's absent minded petting.

****

“You ready to go?” Dean asks, his hand finding its way to the one Luke had free, leading Luke to sigh.

****

“Yeah, just one thing,” Luke mumbles, briefly glancing back over at Waffle before directing his attention back to the water. “What, like… What's gonna happen to this world after we leave?”

****

Dean takes a moment to process, briefly misunderstanding Luke's question as what would happen to _them_ when they left. Dean isn't as nervous as he used to be about losing Luke, they're a real _thing_ now. Luke loves him, he loves him too, and that is indisputable at this point.

****

Still, the future is somewhat frightening.

****

“I… I think it just gets shut down,” Dean replies, trying to remember if there was anything about this in their contract. “Not like, deleted, but just saved somewhere.”

****

“That's good,” Luke murmurs, both falling silent as Luke searches for the words to give his reasoning behind the question. The only sound is the gentle waves against the shore, wind rushing in Dean's ears, and Waffle's elated painting.

****

“I guess I just… don't wanna lose this goober again,” Luke laments, scratching Waffle's chin, the implication breaking Dean's heart a little bit.

****

“Oh, no, he's not going anywhere,” Dean comforts, shifting under Luke. Luke lifts his head from the disturbance, meeting Dean's gaze. “I don’t think time passes when nobody's in the world, so hopefully he won't be missing you.”

****

“Thank God,” Luke sighs, the heartbreakingly adorable concern in his eyes replaced with relief, able to revel completely in this moment. “I was thinking, I'm probably not allowed to take him out if the game…”

****

“Mhmm.”

****

Dean's other hand cups the side of Luke's face, effectively shutting him up, the other entwined with Luke's in his lap.

****

Luke quickly catches on to what Dean’s trying to do, the ridiculously flirtatious, almost euphoric look in his eyes hiding nothing. His eyes flutter shut as Dean leans forward, lips catching against his own, short and sweet and _perfect._

****

Waffle whines from the brief diversion of Luke's attention. Luke cries out in response, but Dean can only laugh.

****

“Maybe you can talk to Todd about it,” Dean proposes, admiring the way Luke's hands masterfully move through Waffle's fur for maximum _lovin’,_ the grin on his face both protectively parental and childishly gleeful.

****

“Maybe,” Luke teases, and leaves it at that. Dean leaves them be until Waffle seems satisfied, but is unable to zone out like he had before. All he can stare at is Luke.

****

“So, you ready to go?”

****

“Yeah, I think so.”

****

“We bringing Waffle?”

****

“Of course!”

****

…

****

The journey home seemed quicker, although Dean had no idea if it actually was. Luke, once again, forced Dean to follow him back across the sea in his own boat, Waffle taking up his spot, but Dean didn't really mind. Both the boat ride and the walk across the shore were filled with small talk, Luke pointing out mobs, flowers, or just little details, and the conversation came easily to them. The few moments of silence were filled by Dean's inner contemplation; what he's doing, why he's doing it, and if this is really worth it.

****

Going home for the last time, presumably, the last thing they'll see before their time is up. Come to think of it, can this even be called home?

****

The house they made during the season, sure. The building Jeff and Luke poured their hearts into, where both blood and tears were spilled, signifying both life and death.

****

A house that was empty, even when the three of them were there at the beginning of this excursion. A house abandoned in search of escape, in search of the End.

****

Dean isn't sure if he should really call it home. Maybe he shouldn't call their island house home either, it's only existed for a couple days, but at least nobody's ever died there.

****

An old home, maybe. That seems the most fitting. Finally receiving its long-delayed send off.

****

That sounds nice. _It's fine, we'll be fine._

****

The walk only gets colder as they continue, beaches transitioning into plains, into frozen forests. Luke squeezes Dean's hand, giving him a reassuring smile every time he needed one, sharing his warmth in the best way he could.

****

Trudging through the snow brings him back to his thoughts, being exactly what he was going to do when they made it home. _No, it isn't home._ When they made it _back._

****

Certainly not just wandering through the empty house, that would be torture. Is that why he's here, just to torture himself? The snowy plains and forests aren't much better, especially saturated with the anxiety of being alone, memories that he'd rather forget.

****

…

****

No, he can't forget them. He still owes them…

****

Owes _Todd…_ _Everything._

****

“Think we're almost there-”

****

“Did I ever tell you what Todd did?” Dean interrupts, the cold numbing his higher thinking.

****

“When- What?”

****

“I- Yeah, I don't think I did,” Dean assures himself, smiling. _Why am I smiling?_ “It was, uh- During the season, you know when y'all went on whatever adventure you went on? When I was stuck at the house.”

****

Luke's face flushes, possibly from embarrassment or simply the biting wind.

****

“Uh, yeah… Sorry, by the way.”

****

“It’s fine,” Dean assures, linking arms with Luke, an attempt to comfort them both. Their pace slows as Dean fixates on the trees in front of them, dragging his feet through the snow. “It worked out alright for me… I did miss you, though.”

****

Luke exhales sharply, the concept ridiculous yet entirely sincere. He says nothing, but continues to offer his presence.

****

“But… Y'know. I was just kind of moping, and I heard something outside, and… I already spoiled it, it was Todd, but I didn't know he could shapeshift-”

****

“He can shapeshift?”

****

“I mean- Yeah. Trickster god, and all that.”

****

Luke takes a moment to process, his brow furrowing, but seems to accept it.

****

"... Okay, but into what?”

****

“That's- Yeah, uh-” Dean stutters, finding himself tripping over his words, despite how badly he wants to simply spit it out. “He turned into Mcjones.”

****

Luke freezes.

****

He turns to face Dean, his hands tightly gripping Dean's shoulders. Although they’re out in the open, Dean feels like he has his back to the wall. Luke practically scowls at him, his expression colder than the ice around them, the once soothing ocean waves in his eyes turned dangerous.

****

“He _what?”_

****

Dean's words come out weaker than he had hoped, almost strangled.

****

“Let go of me.”

****

Another shift, so quick Dean nearly chokes. Luke lets go instantly, taking a couple steps back. There’s clear remorse in his expression, but the tides are no less intense.

****

“... Sorry. But still, just… what? I- Sorry, just walk me through it.”

****

Dean curls into himself, a hand rising to his shoulder and holding himself in Luke's absence. He bites his lip, staring at the ground, desperately trying to calm himself. He notices Waffle close to Luke's heels, but mindful enough not to interrupt. Then, how their steps disturbed the snow beneath them, crushed under their feet or flung around when Dean dragged his feet. How the snow that remained undisturbed was thick, pure white, wet and shimmering in the sunlight. It feels familiar.

****

“I- Sorry, I just-”

****

“Don't apologize,” Luke interrupts, taking a step closer to Dean, his voice still wrought with sympathy, apologetic distress. Dean forces himself to look up, and finds Luke with that _stupid fucking look_ again. His eyes are wide, worried, as if they were about to tear up, those puppy dog ones Dean feels so strongly about, framed by his furrowed brow and lips turned downwards. “It was- Don't…”

****

This isn't the first time he's seen Luke struggle for words, but he doubts it'll ever stop filling him with a sense of raw dread, even guilt.

****

Luke exhales, struggling to bring his gaze up from the ground, holding his hand out in front of him.

****

“Is it okay if I…?”

****

Dean takes a deep breath, a familiar, translucent white cloud escaping on his exhale, one that makes him smile despite himself. He steps forward, taking Luke's hand and beckoning for the other, which Luke gratefully gives.

****

Dean braces himself, part of him missing Luke's hold on him, another grateful that his hands were passively entwined with his own between them. Another breath, and he begins.

****

“Ok, yeah- So… I thought he was Mcjones.”

****

Luke squeezes Dean's hands, a slight comfort. Something deep inside Dean aches to escape, to run away or to bury himself in Luke, to let these words get lost in Luke's mouth, _anything_ that would stop him from talking. Kissing him sounds like _heaven_ right now, but Dean forces himself to continue.

****

“He was- Uh… Todd's pretty good at imitation, I guess. He was still wearing the weird wizard robes, but- I don't know, I guess I just wanted it to be real. So I just went along with it.”

****

Luke's jaw clenches, his gaze growing sharper again, but holds himself back- at least for now.

****

“How did you, uh- realize…?”

****

“He, uh-” Dean stutters, squeezing his eyes shut, struggling to relay the memories and hold back his emotions at the same time. “Well, it started with him saying he wasn't here for me, he was just trying to say goodbye to- uh... not me, so I told him he should probably go and wait until y'all got back. But…”

****

Dean feels the tears stinging at his eyes, and it's clear Luke notices too, taking his hand back from Dean's grip and cupping his cheek, swiping his thumb under his eye. The motion, as gentle as it is, slightly lifts Dean's glasses, and for some reason he's _smiling_ again, even as tears threaten to spill from his eyes. The gesture is just too sweet, too adorable, too _pathetic_ , but in the best possible way; One where he can be proud of the swell of emotion it brings him, one where he feels safe in his weakness, protected from any other sense of the word. Too ridiculous, too overwhelming, too _Luke,_ and it brings him back to the age old question of if his tears will freeze if he actually cries out here.

****

“Mm- Yeah. But then he backtracked a little, and this- Weird, roundabout apology… God, it sounded just like him…”

****

_Fuck, it's happening again._

****

The first tear drops, then another, and Luke tries to wipe them away but is quickly overwhelmed. Instead, he takes his other hand back and wraps his arm around Dean's waist, pulling him closer. Dean finds himself clinging to Luke again, like a lifesaver in a frozen ocean, except if that lifesaver actually loved him back. Only now does he realize _fuck, it’s cold_ and Luke is the warmest thing here, warmer than any house or island could be, has _always_ been the warmth he needed. Luke's flames crackle, the sweet scent of smoke filling the air along with whispers that _it's okay, I'm here,_ and _let it out._

****

His tears didn't freeze.

****

Dean is nowhere near composed enough to continue, he barely has the air to speak, but he continues regardless.

****

“And he asked if I could forgive him, and… That's when I realized it wasn't really him.”

****

Luke sighs, squeezing him comfortingly.

****

“Because the real him would have already known you'd…?”

****

Dean nods, his composure slowly coming back to him, but not yet confident enough to unbury himself in Luke's chest.

****

“That… Why would he even do that?” Luke asks, his voice tinged with contempt, anger, almost vengeful. Dean knows it isn't aimed at him, but the concept still scares him.

****

“I- He was just checking on me-”

****

“There has to be better ways of doing that. He couldn't have just asked you how you were doing?”

****

“He said I wouldn't have told him.”

****

“Is that true?” Luke asks, his voice low and flat, masking deeper intentions. Dean struggles to find an answer, or the air to pronounce it even if he had one. “You told _me…_ ”

****

“Well…” Dean's voice wavers. “He told me to talk to someone else after. He knew I needed someone like you…”

****

Luke seems unimpressed.

****

“He couldn't have just said that without making you think Mcjones was back?”

****

“He's the mastermind wizard man, I'm not gonna question his methods-”

****

“He's not just a- No, I am. Because that's just, _so_ reckless, and I was led to believe he actually cared.”

****

“He does, in his own weird, evil way…” Dean wishes he could stop himself, because he cannot believe he's defending Todd right now. _Shit, is he watching.._? “Look, whatever he did, it was enough to make me get my shit together, and led me to you.”

****

Luke is still somewhat stiff under Dean's touch. The rash intensity of the flames die down, but the heat remains.

****

“... You sure you're okay?”

****

Dean smiles, his tears finally dry.

****

“Yeah. Of course.”

****

Luke pulls away slightly, just enough to meet Dean's gaze, verifying the truth of that statement. He wipes Dean's cheek again, then moves up to push back a strand of hair that was dangerously close to getting in Dean's eyes, and smiles.

****

Dean can't help himself, getting up on his toes to kiss him. Luke's lips are warm, and for a moment Dean forgets all about their frozen surroundings, enveloped in salt, sugar, smoke, and warmth. Luke kisses him harder than before, his grip on Dean unbreakable, passionate and protective. Dean wouldn't change it for _anything_.

****

Dean breaks away first, settling back on his heels, unable to keep himself from smiling. Immediately, the passionate, sensual, somewhat dangerous side of Luke is replaced with the same adorable inanity Dean knows so well by now. Luke's brow furrows and squints, as if the kiss had sparked some deep revelation.

****

“Wait… How do you know I'm not Todd?”

****

Dean scoffs, almost tearing up again from the perfect purity of it all, the _stupidity._

****

“I don't think Todd would let me kiss him.”

****

“You don't know that, though! Could be a part of his secret wizard plans-”

****

Dean rolls his eyes, taking Luke's hand and walking again. He doesn't want to keep Waffle waiting, and _Jesus,_ he keeps forgetting just how cold it is out here.

****

“Well, are you?”

****

Luke is silent for a moment, pondering it. Dean wonders, maybe even hopes that he's broken him, that he'll just _shut up._

****

“... Would I know if I was?”

****

So much for that dream.

****

“Wh- Yes. What?”

****

“But what if I'm not real? How can you tell-”

****

“Pretty sure his thing is deception, not creating entirely new... entities, or whatever. That sounds like so much effort for like, no reason.”

****

“But you don't know his secret wizard plaaaans-” Luke drones, Dean practically pulling him along.

****

“He’s a secret evil wizard with better things to do than like- ruining my life.”

****

Luke is silent again, but Dean fears it may be for the wrong reasons.

****

“... I know you don't approve of his… _methods_ , I guess you'd call it, but he's honestly trying to keep me from just- freaking out and running away forever like Mcjones did. He's trying to help.”

****

Dean glances over his shoulder, struggling to analyze the look on Luke's face. Neutral, but there's something strong and undeniable under the surface. Deep in thought, possibly trying to accept something?

****

“... How do I know _you're_ not Todd?”

****

“Wh- Because that would just be _so_ pointless.”

****

“Alright,” Luke concedes, catching up and walking at Dean's side. They couldn't be far, now. He squeezes Dean's hand, smiling again, so adorable it makes Dean want to scream. “I believe you.”

****

…

****

“Is he watching us? Like, right now?”

****

“I mean- Maybe. He's probably got other things to do, but it wouldn't really surprise me-”

****

Luke cuts him off, grabbing his waist and roughly pulling him close, smashing their lips together. Their noses bump together, and Dean's hands instinctively move to hold them together, one on Luke's back, the other in his hair. Dean doesn't even think to breathe until Luke pulls away, half lidded eyes mischievous.

****

“Think he's still watching?”

****

“Wh- Oh my God.”

****

Waffle nudges impatiently at their ankles, reminding them that they're _literally so close_ to being out of the cold, but for once, Luke doesn't pay attention to him. Instead, he gives his full attention to Dean, leaning down and kissing him lightly on the lips once more before drifting down further, pressing kisses along his jaw. Dean suppresses a squeal, his hands on Luke's body prepared to, but not yet committing to pushing him away.

****

“Luke, come on. Inside, at least.”

****

Luke groans low in his throat, pressing one more kiss to his forehead before pulling away, a dopey grin on his face Dean couldn't help but mirror. Luke reluctantly agrees, and Dean dares to think that tonight, with all of its bittersweet implications and endings, might not be so bad after all.

****

Is that so naive?


	15. Omens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has plenty of revelations, to the tune of bad omens and isolation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> auuugh sorry this took so long im fool... but this motherfucker is 4.5k words absolute behemoth  
> and ive officially decided im doing an epilogue bc this still doesn't feel complete im sorry im the dumbest bitch alive. go crazy go stupid aaaauughhh go crazy. go stupid

“You doing okay?”

****

Dean shifts slightly in his seat, dragging his eyes away from the window to Luke. He leaves his mushroom soup somewhat precariously in his lap as his hand floats up to the arm Luke has slung around him.

****

“Yeah. Of course.”

****

Luke takes another bite, his expression half teasing, half genuine concern.

****

“Just thought you were being a little quiet.”

****

“I mean, I'm eating,” Dean snarks, looking down at his soup, choosing to ignore the fact that he's barely eaten.

****

“Okay, do that.”

****

“What are you, my mom?”

****

Luke rolls his eyes, placing his empty bowl to the side and bringing his newly free hand to Dean's face, forcing him to meet his gaze. A gaze much too sultry and mischievous for merely trying to convince Dean to eat his soup. Even after all this time, it still leaves Dean breathless.

****

“Please?”

****

Dean smirks, realizing his opening. His cheeks are already burning, but he tries to be smooth anyway, eyelids drooping in anticipation.

****

“Maybe if you kiss me, I'll consider it.”

****

Luke takes back his hand and drives a finger into Dean's forehead, pushing him away.

****

“Oh nooo, you’ll starve,” Luke whines, hardly even trying to be convincing. Dean pouts, but supposes if he makes Luke happy he might be able to make up for it.

****

“Fine,” Dean concedes, taking another bite, continuing to neglect admitting he wasn't really hungry. Luke smiles, and that's enough for Dean.

****

“I was gonna ask if you had anything else you… I guess wanted to do, while we’re here? I'm cool with just chilling here ‘til sunrise, though.”

****

“I mean… Just getting one last look at everything, I guess. Wasn't really thinking of some goodbye ritual or anything, just…”

****

Dean’s eyes are pulled back to the window, peaceful and undisturbed as a flurry of snow falls from the sky. The light is slowly waning, a reminder of the passing of time, and Dean feels like a child scared of the dark.

****

“I already told you about the Todd thing, it’s just… so much has happened here. So I know it's kind of weird, but I just wanted to… send it off, or whatever.”

****

Luke hums, his arm around Dean tightening, and Dean leans even further into the touch.

****

“... I mean, I did think about burning this whole place to the ground, but I dunno' how helpful that would really be.”

****

Dean forces a chuckle, hoping to convince himself he isn't being as _stupid_ as he knows he is. Luke takes a moment to contemplate, cocking his head to the side.

****

“We could go burn something. Probably not the entire house, but that could be fun.”

****

For the idea Dean proposed, that’s a hell of a curveball.

****

“I… I've never had anyone actually… entertain my propositions of arson before.”

****

“Nah, I get it. It's… I get where you're coming from, being here, but it's… just, kinda sad.”

****

“We don't have to stay here if you don’t-”

****

“No, it's fine. I'd rather be here with you,” Luke cuts him off, and Dean knows he means it from the small smile on his face, the way his arm over Dean's shoulders meets Dean's hand and caresses it, the look in his eyes in the low light- _Fuck._

****

The sudden strike of attraction steals the very air from Dean's lungs. Luke is too pretty, it's just _too much,_ and Dean nearly spills the soup in his lap as he twists to kiss him, but he can't quite bring himself to care. Dean can feel Luke smiling against his lips, reciprocating as if he had already forgotten his previous refusal.

****

Or, maybe he didn't. Just as Dean starts getting carried away and wanting _more,_ Luke pushes him away again, smirking like an _idiot._

****

“Eat first. Then we can do… whatever you want.”

****

Dean pouts, but can't argue. And so they sit in a comfortable silence, watching the light die and the view from the window becoming obscured by the glare from within, Luke reinstating his arm around Dean as a form of compensation. Dean eventually manages to swallow down the remainder of his soup and feels like he's only moments away from throwing himself onto Luke again, until-

****

“Hey- Aww. There's a sheep. Think he's staring at you,” Luke says somewhat sleepily, focusing much more on Dean than the window. Dean looks up, blinks a couple times, and sets the empty bowl to the side.

****

“You're… no.”

****

Dean approaches the window, ignoring Luke's confused protests. His hands press against the glass as he struggles to see, and…

****

“You're fucking joking.”

****

_It's not…_ It's too much of a coincidence to be pink, it _can't_. It has to be the light, _it can't-_

****

…

****

Well, Luke asked if there was anything else he wanted to do, didn't he?

****

Dean steps back, seeing his own reflection in the glass, and a fire starts in his fast-beating heart. He can't hear what Luke is saying, screams of _Todd_ and _coincidence_ and _oh my God_ filling his ears. This _can't_ be a coincidence, _is this why we're here?_ And even if it is, Dean has to do something. Find it, bring it back, _kill it?_ He doesn't even know, but he takes another glance at his reflection, sword in hand and _laughing._

****

“Dean, wait-”

****

_Too late._

****

That _fire_ spreads to his mind, his entire body, sending him running to the door. He follows the walls of the house, trying to find the same window, but the darkness and the blizzard around him leaves him disoriented. Did Luke put out the torches, or something? It's too dark, and Dean feels like a child again, blind and reckless. Did Luke come after him? Is he running _to_ or running _from?_ It's been only minutes, _how long has it been,_ and he's already forgotten.

****

_The pink sheep, right. Running… to._

****

…

****

_Where the fuck…?_

****

How did tracing the walls of the house get him this lost? There's no light, _anywhere,_ unless it's being hidden by the blizzard. _Probably that. Shit…_

****

His hands sting again, growing numb as he clutches his sword. The wind is relentless, every bit of exposed skin burning from the sting, despite the constant shivering implying he should be freezing. Too dark to even see his own breath dissipate in front of him, too dark to see anything, no moon, no stars, _fuck-_

****

Dean takes a deep breath, the cold air making him cough, but tries his hardest to calm down. One voice stands out in his mind, one that sounds suspiciously like Luke. _Breathe. You're gonna be okay. Just calm down._

****

Another, much more like his own. Somewhat calmed, but still concerned, justifiably so. _Literally where the fuck are you? Fuck, what did you do. Are there still monsters…?_

****

He clutches his sword even tighter as he scans his surroundings, the stinging pain drowned out by his other worries. _Nothing. No monsters, no house, no light, just darkness. Shit…_

****

_…_

****

…

****

…

****

_Oh, fuck._

****

A torch is lit on the horizon, bright yellow and blinding, the only thing Dean can see. Immediately, he runs to it, a bit too out of breath to scream, but straining to hear Luke's voice on the other end. It _has_ to be him, _it can't be anyone else. He did follow._

****

And yet, as he approaches, a pit forms in his stomach.

****

He never hears Luke's voice. That isn't so bad, maybe he's screamed his lungs out too. But not even a whisper or a breathless plea leaves his mouth. _He's mad, isn't he?_ That's okay, honestly he's right to be, but it's _Luke,_ he won't hold it against him, right?

****

His legs take him closer and closer to the light, and the silence remains, only the crackling of the fire. That same pit in his stomach _twists,_ more painfully than Dean thought it could, a pain he thought he was _done_ with.

****

_That…_

****

_That isn't Luke._

****

Luke promised him he would never have to feel this way again, this _panic,_ this pain that leaves him bitter and breathless and so easily _broken._ Wait, did he promise that? No, maybe Dean promised himself. But either away, this shouldn't be happening, it can't be. _Not again._

****

Maybe Dean's perception of him is tainted, but the orange glow from the torch held above his head illuminates him almost demonically, long sharp shadows and the hellfire no coincidence. Beyond the lighting, this is _all too familiar._ Strange, black robes flowing around him, now blending in with the shadows. Snow falling onto it mirroring the obscured night sky above them. A mess of golden hair tousled by the wind, too hard to analyze his face but his posture suggests- _no, no, no, no, God please stop it-_

****

“Dean…” He says, bringing the torch down near his chest, the shadows shifting and starting to move on their own, despite the now static source of light. His other hand moves slowly, a palm slowly growing outstretched. He takes a single step towards Dean, and inside of him, an explosion. “I-”

****

_“Stay the fuck away from me,”_ Dean growls, his sword coming out in front of him. Fire and ice courses through his veins, unfiltered rage and the urge to burst into tears fighting for dominance. Dean fears both may come out, so he grips the hilt of his sword like it will help keep himself together.

****

Mcjones draws back from the outburst, a look on his face he might have once found pitiful, but now distorted, twisted. He's silent, reconsidering his actions for only a moment, but it gives Dean more than enough time to think.

****

He squeezes the hilt a bit tighter, the rough leather digging into his palms. In that pure panic, anger and sorrow, there's adrenaline. He could do it. ~~the fuck are you talking about he isn't really here~~ He could kill him if he so much as _dared_ to take another step. It doesn't mean much here, but Dean can easily picture himself raising his sword, charging him, driving it into his stomach. ~~are you fucking crazy? it's just todd again, jesus fuck calm down~~ Once, he saw his own blood spilled onto the pure white blanket over this forest, but not anymore. Mcjones can’t scare him anymore. ~~you keep saying that, but it isn't true, is it?~~

****

Even amongst the chaos of his mind, the emotional monologue, the panicked babbling, the violent self-assurances and every contradiction, one voice is still heard above all.

****

_Okay, calm down. It's okay, baby._

****

Dean nearly chokes from merely the implication, staggering backwards, never lowering his sword, never taking his eyes off of Mcjones. At first, his voice seems to do the opposite of his presumed intention as tears sting at his eyes again, Dean forcing them back and praying Mcjones didn't see them. But as Luke continues, his voice really does calm him, washing over him like ocean waves, perfectly in time.

****

_Don't take your eyes off him, but don't do anything you'll regret. Stay with me, here. Stay calm. You can do this._

****

Mcjones cocks his head to the side, perhaps just as confused about the hurricane in Dean's head as he is.

****

“Okay, Dean, I…” He pauses as if recalculating his next move. He leans back on his heels, hands clasped in front of him, intentionally as non-threatening as possible. “I know we got off on the wrong foot-”

****

“No shit.”

****

“-and I'm not asking for forgiveness, or... anything. I just wanted to check on you, okay?” Mcjones finishes, clearly irritated by the interruption, but still dedicated to this… innocent intentions _shit._

****

Luke's voice comes through again. _Don't be scared, you're gonna be okay. Come home to me._ Dean's sword lowers a fraction of an inch, and he steels himself for what's to come.

****

“Why do you care?”

****

Dean knows the answer, _of course,_ Todd has his own agenda, but he still indulges in this fantasy that it really is Mcjones on the other end of his sword, at _his_ mercy for the first and last time.

****

“What, I can't just talk to you? Can you put the sword down for _one fucking second?_ ”

****

Dean almost laughs, unwavering. The less of an effect Mcjones has on him, the less real it feels. Still, Luke refuses to leave his head. _Don't let him get to you. You can do this._ The more the storm in his chest settles, the more he just wants to leave. They should be done with this.

****

What would Luke say if he was here?

****

He probably wouldn't buy… _this_ for a second. They both know it's really Todd, but surely Luke would talk Todd out of this test. ~~and what does that say about you, immediately jumping to what, trying to fucking kill him?~~ Luke wouldn't blame him for his outburst, or freaking out. He should be over it by now, but Luke, whether or not he knows that, simply wouldn't. He knows Luke well enough by now. He can't imagine Todd, _or anyone really_ not bending to Luke's will, especially if he put on those _stupid fucking_ puppy dog eyes Dean knows he would. Even if he didn't, Dean can perfectly imagine Luke in front of him, shielding him, fingers only inches away from his chest to push him back if need be. Dean wouldn't have to defend himself. Even now, does he really _have_ to…?

****

It's always Luke that comforts him in the end, soothing waves crashing over him, carrying away his emotional impulses from before. Hands like cool water rubbing circles into his back, tension leaving him like a river, saltwater kisses left recklessly yet so purposefully-

****

Dean smiles despite himself, throwing his sword to the side.

****

“Fine. What do you want?”

****

“Okay, finally. Jesus,” Mcjones stammers, seemingly caught off guard as he staggers back the same way Dean had. “Okay, so, I know we got off on the wrong foot. I've talked to the others, and I know I'm kind of crashing the party here, but I thought I should at least apologize and explain-”

****

“Look, can we just cut to the fucking chase?” Dean interrupts, his newly free hand rubbing his temple. “I just wanna leave. I'm done with all… this.”

****

“That little outburst from before suggested otherwise,” Mcjones points out, starting to sound a lot more like Todd.

****

“Wh- Am I supposed to just, not care at all? Just because I don't love him anymore doesn't mean I fucking forgot what he did, or something. If you're gonna try to put him right in front of me-”

****

“I'm right here, Dean,” Mcjones interrupts, taking the step forward Dean had been wanting to kill him for. “Me. You don't love _me._ Don't try to avoid the subject.”

****

Dean starts to regret dropping his sword, taking a glance at the ground where it lay. He takes a deep breath, telling himself not to do anything stupid, and his hands ball into fists at his sides.

****

“Just because I don't love… you… anymore… doesn't mean I forgot what… No, I can't fucking do this,” Dean interrupts, feeling his self control slipping again. “Can you just, stop looking like that, _please._ ”

****

“That defeats the purpose of this little exercise, doesn't it?” Mcjones smirks, taking another step forward, and Dean feels frozen. He wants to lunge for his sword and threaten him again, but he can't move, can't think, can't _breathe_ as Mcjones approaches, his presence utterly suffocating. “You aren't over it. You're still a child.”

****

“I-” Dean yelps, partially knowing he's right as he feels himself tearing up. “Am I supposed to be? You- If you're gonna be right in front of me, you can't expect me to not be pissed, or- or lose it, I can't just-” Dean chokes on his own words, gasping for air behind the hand trying to cover his face. The storm returns, but the voices fade and blend into eachother, all incoherent screaming, not even Luke's being heard anymore. “I don't love him- you, anymore. I thought that's what you wanted.”

****

“I want you to be okay. Ready for whatever comes next,” Mcjones states flatly, taking another step closer, _too close,_ so they're face to face. “Say Mcjones really does come back. Or something happens with Luke. You get your heart broken again. I can't have you this messed up about it.”

****

Dean wants to run away, scream at him, _kill him,_ but is silenced as Mcjones’ hand lands on his cheek, lazily wiping underneath Dean's eye.

****

“I can't have you crying so much. Most importantly, I can't have you running off.” Dean shivers as he pulls away, longing for Luke more than ever. “You need to be ready.”

****

It takes a moment of silence for Dean's cognitive functions to start working again.

****

“... Okay, one, don't bring Luke into this. He's helped me more than anyone-”

****

“Because he's the only one you've reached out to? Look, I'm glad you like him, I'm glad he's helped you, but the way you two are now is awfully vulnerable,” Mcjones tuts, making Dean scream internally because _fuck, he isn't wrong._

****

“It's- I'm gonna tell the others. I'm getting there. I…” Dean stammers, forcing down another outburst. “Look, I don't know what to tell you. I'm not gonna be… just, perfect, okay? I can't guarantee I'm never gonna get hurt again. I'm trying to let go of y- _Mcjones,_ really, but that's not gonna work if you keep putting him right in front of me.”

****

“Perhaps,” Mcjones muses, smirking slightly. _Amused._

****

_Fucking asshole._

****

“Just have a little faith in me, alright? I'm not gonna break down again, or run off, I promise. You just- You gotta understand I'm not gonna be completely… fixed, no matter what happens. Not for a long time. But I'll be fine. Seriously.”

****

Mcjones chuckles, tilting his head to the side, the act noticeably breaking. “Alright. Fine. I know I've been... intense, but i just thought I’d see how much you could take this last time. ‘Cause I’m not doing this again. But it's gotten you this far, so at least there's a little pride in that.”

****

Dean almost smiles, half out of spite, the other out of the pure absurdity of it all.

****

“Okay. Can I go now?”

****

“One last question,” Mcjones teases, barely recognizable as his voice anymore. “... You have a good time?”

****

Dean can't help but sigh into a smile. “Of course. It's been great.”

****

Dean almost thanks him, but the words catch on a new revelation.

****

“Wait, weren't you watching?”

****

Mcjones shrugs, his form wavering and growing more and more distorted. “Glimpses. Figured it would be better not to intrude too much.”

****

Dean hums, relieved yet slightly uneasy with how much he doesn't know. “Um- I guess you should probably know, if you didn't catch it- Luke mentioned, uh- maybe going with him to this place called Irsa-Serin? Just for the off season. I know that's…”

****

_Everything you've been trying to keep me from doing._

****

And yet somehow, Mcjones gives the shadow of a smile, pinching the bridge of his nose.

****

“ _Just_ for the off-season, right?”

****

“Yeah, of course. As much as I hate you and don't care what you think… promise I'll be back in time.”

****

“... Alright. Otherwise, I'm hunting you down.”

****

“Can you even do that?”

****

Mcjones only laughs in response, unclear exactly if it was meant to be a yes or no. He sighs, and the wind around them starts to pick up, his robes fluttering gracefully. “Alright. You can go now.”

****

“Thank you-” Dean blurts out before he disappears, almost smiling. “For doing… all this.”

****

Mcjones- Much more like Todd now, really, only smiles in response. The world around them shifts again, too dark to really see, but more than enough to feel. The wind changes, the snow falls differently, sounds coming back into focus Dean hadn't noticed had been missing. The leaves shaking with the wind, snow falling from them as it grew too heavy for the branches, moving water and the breaking of ice off somewhere in the distance.

****

Most noticeably, Luke calling his name.

****

Dean almost cried. Luke's voice is faint, still much too far away, shaky and strained. Forcing himself to regain his composure, he picks the direction Luke's voice seems to be coming from, and runs.

****

“Luke?”

****

“D- Dean!”

****

After an excruciating few moments of running and feeling like he can't breathe, Dean only inhales when his arms are around Luke's neck, Luke barely refraining from scooping him up.

****

“Dean- Oh my God,” Luke pants, out of breath, holding Dean like he feared he might lose him again. “Don't scare me like that.”

****

“Sorry,” Dean mumbles into Luke's shoulder, more air than sound. “I…”

****

Dean pulls away slightly, and only just now notices the strand of pink wool he's clutching, wrapped around his wrist. He brings it into Luke's view, and cuts him off before he can say anything.

****

“Let's go home.”

****

…

****

“So, do you mind telling me what just happened?”

****

Luke closes the door behind them, the giddy relief of finding Dean now faded into mere concern. Perfectly reasonable, but Dean still can't find the strength to look at him directly.

****

“Uh- Yeah, just… Can we lie down for a second?”

****

Luke nods wordlessly, pulling Dean along to the room with the beds. Coincidentally, the room where Waffle was sat in the corner, who eagerly welcomes them, demanding to be pet. Luke engages him, letting Dean get comfortable before joining him on the bed, laying on his side with Waffle joining them at their feet.

****

“Are you okay?”

****

Dean doesn't respond right away, staring up at the ceiling and hardly seeing anything at all. There are no distractions here, no stars, although Dean doesn't know why he even tries. He takes a quick glance at Luke, giving a weak smile.

****

“Yeah. It was just… a lot. Good news and bad news.”

****

Luke hums, reaching for Dean's hand, which Dean gratefully gives. Dean sighs at the touch, and his smile, a bit more genuine, gives Luke the opening to respond.

****

“Bad news first?”

****

Dean chuckles quietly, and nods.

****

“Yeah. Okay, so… Wasn't actually a sheep, it was, uh… Todd again. As Mcjones. Confusing…” Dean mumbles, although he knew Luke understood every word. Luke frowns, squeezing Dean's hand, moving in slightly closer. “But it's really not that bad. He was just kind of… testing me, I guess. And, I don't know, I guess he expects me to be more… I don't know, _emotionless_ than I am. But he said this would be the last time, and I guess I convinced him well enough that I would be fine.”

****

“Will you?”

****

“Of course,” Dean retorts, meeting Luke's gaze and forcing a smile. “I wanna tell the others about what happened between us. Me and Mcjones, I mean.”

****

“That's probably a good idea,” Luke considers, briefly glancing over at the window to see how dark out it was, how much time they had, giving Dean a chance to breathe. From the near pitch darkness, it's clear they have plenty of time. “... Where’d you get the wool, though?”

****

“I…” Dean stammers, just now realizing he left his sword out there as well. Not that it really matters. “I don’t know, magic?”

****

“Figures.”

****

“But, yeah. And I told him something about how… I couldn't promise I was never gonna get hurt again, but I promised him that… uh, that I was trying, and to have a little faith in me… I guess us… But mainly that I'll be okay. And that he can stop now.”

****

“He better,” Luke mutters, only half serious.

****

“But, y'know, the good news; I guess he hasn't been watching us… Like, glimpses, but he didn't know about you maybe bringing me to Irsa-Serin, so I told him about that and he said it was fine as long as it was just for the off-season, but…”

****

Dean trails off from his own implication, getting lost in Luke again, the barely there moonlight and the torches from the room over just enough to illuminate him. Light surrounds his frame and the edges of his features like a halo, highlighting his cheeks, his nose, eyes intoxicating and lips addicting. Orange and blue, barely there yet the brightest thing in the room, and Dean feels that _pull_ again, magnetic.

****

“Really,” Luke muses, sitting up as if asking Dean to join him, the light seeming to move with him, swirling and flickering, something beautiful beyond Dean's understanding.

****

Dean doesn't have to ask what Luke wants, nor ask himself. He meets Luke's gaze for a moment, hums in the affirmative to Luke's half-question, and leans in.

****

No, this never gets old. Luke's kiss is dizzying, wonderful in so many ways it leaves Dean's head spinning, breathless and wanting more. It's rarely the same, often depending on who's initiating it and their intentions. Often sweet, sometimes salty, always warm. Sometimes like liquor or candy, something expensive and carefully made. Magnetic, addicting, never quite the same, but always just as good. Their first was novel and slightly frightening, a dazzling storm, light rain and static electricity. The off handed ones, sickeningly sweet and a jolt straight to Dean’s heart, begging him to go back. On the island, there were the stronger ones, wildfires and lightning strikes, but also dripping sunlight and soothing waves. If coral reefs and pretty seashells had a taste, a _feeling_ , it would be that day with Luke in the water. Dean isn't sure if he can pick a favorite, but that one seems like a frontrunner.

****

Tonight, not unlike their other nights, filled with confessions and concerned comfort, pure moonlight. Slow and sweet like honey, light yet powerful on a scale almost cosmic. Commanding of the tides themselves, but never daring to raise its voice.

****

Luke reminds him of the moon. Luke reminds him of a lot of things, every little intricacy of the universe and every monumental beauty has a piece of Luke embedded in them. Or maybe they're embedded in Luke, but either way, Luke has that power. Seashells, waterfalls, tide pools and hurricanes. Dean struggles to truly grasp it, feels unworthy, even, but most aptly describes him as beauty, _no, love incarnate._

****

Of course, tonight is no exception. Luke is a lot of things, the ocean and the sky, the stars themselves, an entire universe in and of himself. Tonight, he's made of moonlight, his lips a different kind of sweet, angelically, ethereally so. Being here with Luke feels like being at the center of the universe, all things orbiting around this one moment, kissing him. Growing rougher, wanting more, gasping for air as the stars grow even brighter, exploding, asteroids and entropy, everything Luke.

****

Tonight, the entire universe. Relishing this moment, looking forward to the future, hope and the nervous excitement of knowing they're facing something bigger than them both. Tonight, the stars are almost blinding, existing only in Luke's eyes as clouds still obscure the sky. The vast expanse of space all within Luke, his arms around Dean like being held by the universe itself. Dean was never one for poeticisms, but it seems this is simply what Luke does to him. Luke, in all of his shining, complex, irresistible glory, stars and planets and every little amazing intricacy of the universe within Luke. The universe, his universe.

****

And the universe said _I love you._


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of eternity.

Mornings are something he's come to love, living like this.

Sleep isn't exactly necessary, but rest, in whatever form that takes, is. There's no such thing as wasted time anymore, if this eternity is really as it seems. They're still on a time limit here, eventually Dean will have to head back for another season and _oh, actually,_ Dean isn't sure how long they have before Luke has to head out and perform again.

But here, this moment, feels much longer than it really is.

It always takes a moment to find himself, recognizing the dull presence in the back of his mind as a result of arms around his waist, a chest up against his back. The covers have been kicked off, somewhere to the side, and the harsh sunlight coming in from the balcony is surprisingly nice.

_Here_ feels nice. All of this does. _Right._

Here, with Luke. He still struggles to comprehend exactly how they got here, how it all happened so fast.

He walks himself through it in his head, from the moment he rejoined the game. Three days, alone with Luke, the time period relatively short but had everything Dean needed. How they clung to each other on the floor, how they kissed, how they crossed biomes and oceans with Waffle at their heels; _God,_ Dean misses Waffle more than he thought he would. How they built a little temporary home for themselves, how after, they went back to the place where it all started, how he finally got Todd off his case, how they found themselves wrapped up in each other again that last night and couldn't bring themselves to move.

They never did do that bonfire, or whatever, but Dean didn't really mind. He must have fallen asleep in Luke's arms again, because he woke up in the lobby, and something wouldn't let him get a moment of rest, always running back to Luke.

And then they left. It was never really discussed between them, something they both just _knew,_ saying their goodbyes and ignoring all of the teasing glances and remarks shot their way.

Jared asked about _how many fucking honeymoons_ they needed, and Dean at least felt slightly validated in that he wasn't projecting before. _Yeah, that was a honeymoon. This_ is a honeymoon. Luke took control of the conversation then, while Dean found himself lost in thought again. _Fuck,_ Luke is his husband. They're in love, a couple, an item, unbreakable. He wanted rings, he still does. He wants to keep going on these little trips, _honeymoons,_ forever. They, quite literally, can.

He remembers practically dragging Luke out of the lobby, then Luke guiding him to his ship. Luke had mentioned his ship before, that it was cluttered, but Dean didn't mind at all. More than that, it was _fascinating,_ flash drives and CDs, even vinyl records piling up on the floor. Luke had said most of them didn't work, that he was still working on it, but at least the ones that did were organized. And how in the one part of the ship where there was room, the one with the window showing off the stars and empty space, they danced.

The music Luke put on seemed familiar, like he had heard it before, but the lyrics were never quite able to come back to him. Luke had said it was from before the Rebirth, and although it would occasionally lose quality or burst into static, Dean felt like he was home.

Home was always a strange concept to Dean, being unable to remember what it might have meant before the Rebirth. Not just a living space, especially if they're not technically alive. But somewhere where he feels he belongs, somewhere good and loving, somewhere like _there_ , on Luke's ship.

There, dancing with him, singing along to the music, not just below but _amongst_ the stars. Like how they danced in his dream, but without the rising water.

_We're already in the deep end, aren't we?_

And finally, here, Irsa-Serin. When Luke said he could smuggle Dean in, apparently he meant just bringing him in normally, and showing him off to practically everyone. Nobody cared that he wasn't a paying customer, or whatever, if he was even supposed to pay. He wasn't sure.

It didn't matter, either way. Luke wasn't kidding when he said it was an ocean planet either, most of the attractions being on boats, and the few landmasses were filled with pools and springs, even rivers and waterfalls. Luke happened to be assigned to one of those springs, hot and filled with life, the rocks he sang from perfectly scenic. It truly felt like Luke belonged there, ethereal, angelic, a siren Dean had already lost to.

Maybe it was the liquor, making him feel too much and fall in love all over again, but Dean swore he could actually _feel_ the water around him, cool stone and somewhat frightening plants. Maybe he was really losing it, because when Luke pressed his lips to his for the first time out of the game, he could actually _feel_ it. Not exactly feeling like a kiss, but _something._ Something like the pouring rain and heavy ocean waves crashing against him, yet gentle. Like being caught in a whirlpool and being submerged willingly. Something like breathing underwater; taking a moment to get used to it, overly aware of the limited time they have, but _exhilarating._ Maybe, _well, no_ , it _was_ all in his head, but Dean had a feeling Luke had more to do with it than he knew.

Luke’s shift ended, and they were both exhausted, bringing them here. Cuddling in the few hours they had, even if they couldn’t really _feel_ it. _Better than nothing._

Dean stirs, trying his hardest not to wake Luke up while finding himself. The room itself is a little jarring compared to the rest of the planet, sterile and humble against the carefree extravagance of the ships, the springs like the one Luke drew him into, the sky bound architecture ever encompassing. Although, it makes sense that this room is intentionally somewhat boring. This is meant to be an 'employees only' type of area, one Dean only cares about because it gives him the chance to be alone with Luke, to rest, to take a break.

A break that has to be coming to an end, soon. Dean sets his sights on the bedside table, trying to be as still as possible as he reaches for his phone. His glasses are a little too far out of his reach, and they aren't of much use to him now.

He pauses, holding his phone close to his chest as he checks if Luke is still asleep. Luke sighs dreamily, moving in closer to Dean, but seems to still be asleep. Dean takes a quick glance over his shoulder, trying not to get too caught up in the _closeness,_ Luke's skin against his, how in the sunlight he quite literally _glitters._

It did strike him as odd the first time he noticed the dress code here, white robes, somewhat scantily clad, and body glitter to pick up the slack. He couldn't say it bothered him, though. Especially not now, pressed up against his back.

Dean sighs, finally building up the courage to turn on his phone.

_2:54:36_

_(1) Missed Call from (PBG)_

_(7) New Text from (PBG)_

_(1) New Text from (Ray)_

_(1) New Text from (Jared)_

Dean isn't all that excited about whatever Austin's on about, so he goes to Ray first.

_From: Ray_

Hey, didnt catch you on the way out, but hope you have fun with Luke!! _(15:43:12)_

Dean smiles, only just now realizing he missed Ray when they were hurrying out of the lobby. Ray would understand though, more than anybody else.

_To: Ray_

Thanks!! I am ;) _(2:54:38)_

Next up, Jared.

_From: Jared_

Having fun? 👀👀👀 _(13:23:67)_

Dumb. Dean chuckles as quietly as possible, overly aware of Luke's presence.

_To: Jared_

Maybe 👀👀👀 _(2:54:39)_

Finally, Austin.

He didn’t leave a voicemail, so it was just as likely as anything that it was an accident. _He’s clumsy, whatever._

_From: PBG_

Hey, hope you're having fun!! _(9:59:81)_

I'm glad you've been doing better _(9:59:81)_

That sounds weird but y'know, I know the thing with my brother was hard on you _(9:59:82)_

So if there's anything you wanna talk about or that I should know _(9:59:85)_

Yeah _(9:59:85)_

This got long sorry _(9:59:86)_

You'll back in time for next season, right? _(9:59:88)_

Dean sighs, the mention of Mcjones always putting a damper on things. And yet… not as much as it once did. He reacquaints himself with his surroundings, this planet surely hundreds of sectors away from where Mcjones is now, this room where they're alone, Luke still holding him, pressed up against his back. _It's okay._

_To: PBG_

That's the plan _(2:54:39)_

Dean stares at the blinking cursor, trying to figure out what to say.

_To: PBG_

Sorry if I'd worried you at all, I was just kinda going through it for a while _(2:54:40)_

But I think I'm ready now _(2:54:41)_

At the exact same time Dean presses send, Luke stirs behind him, yawning and squeezing Dean even tighter.

"Morning, cutie," Dean mumbles, something that he never thought he'd hear himself say a short time ago. He presses further into Luke, trying to roll onto his back, met by a sleepy grunt and reluctant surrender.

"Morning," Luke grunts, low and adorable as always, and getting to see his face makes it even better. The harsh sunlight always has a way of treating him kindly, blue eyes sparkling like the glitter on his cheeks, a rainbow every time he turns his head.

Dean passively wonders, perhaps partially to distract himself, exactly why he is captivated every time the glitter on Luke's body catches the light and reflects blue, why it's so easy to get lost in Luke's eyes, why this planet speaks to him in a way he had never known before.

He comes to one conclusion; that blue is his favorite color. However, whether he's always been like this or it Luke made him this way, he isn't sure. Either way, Luke certainly helped him realize.

"What time is it?" Luke asks, yawning again, prematurely getting settled back in.

"54. What time do you gotta go?"

"Oh, not 'til 80. We got time."

"Good," Dean says, more sincerely than he had expected out of himself. Luke settles onto his side, his head near Dean's shoulder, hardly even trying to hide he's looking at Dean.

Dean's phone vibrates, a quicker response than he'd thought or hoped.

_From: PBG_

No pressure. Whenever you're ready, I'd be happy to listen _(2:54:44)_

“Who y’texting?” Luke asks without even bothering to glance at the screen to find out, busy brushing a few stray strands of hair out of Dean's face.

“Austin.” Dean stares blankly at the screen, the cursor blinking in an empty draft. “Trying to… figure out how to tell him about Mcjones.”

The cursor flashes like the heartbeat Dean is missing, feeling much faster and more frantic than it really is.

"Well…" Luke ponders, more cautious than he really needs to be. "The way you told me, right? From the beginning."

"... Yeah."

Dean doesn't know exactly what it was about those words that comforted him, that immediately made him know exactly what to say.

Well, no, he does. It's because _Luke_ said them, but even then, this effect Luke has on him is mysterious.

The way Luke alters his daily thoughts, makes him notice the little things and get caught on poeticisms is more than simply being in love, something unique to him. The way he makes Dean scream and sing and lose his breath is something extraordinary, always exactly what he needs.

Right now, he gives him the courage, the words to finally come clean. Not a song or a poem, but a story. One that takes its time, maybe it flounders and is a little bit awkward, but always finds its way. A tragedy, an extended period of mourning, and a recovery. Ultimately…

A happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god... we did it y'all… sorry this last chapter took forever but ahhh
> 
> thank you so much for reading!! big bitch completed!!


End file.
